Forgotten Tales of Middle-earth: The Journey of Hearts
by BlondiezHere
Summary: A maiden Elf coping with the crushing weight of grief and a Man struggling with the unexpected mantle of leadership find themselves turning to each other in their time of need—but will the fear of heartbreak keep them from realizing theirs is a love that can last the ages?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This story uses elements from both the book and the movies, as I enjoyed both tellings of this tale. This opening scene takes place prior to Bilbo's departure with Gandalf** **.**

 **The Sindarin used throughout this story is as accurate as it is possible to get it without having Prof. Tolkien's own notes in front of me. I did a great deal of research to make sure my translations were used correctly.**

* * *

Melancholy was not strong enough a word for how Tauriel felt when she said her final goodbye to Kíli.

As the lid to his stone casket was moved into place by his kin, the burning beneath her breast that left her feeling devoid of any desire to go on living could only be called despair…and even that seemed not quite adequate a description.

Tears fell silently from her eyes as one by one, the dwarves left the antechamber where they had lain to rest Thorin and his nephews—for Kíli's uncle and brother Fíli had also been slain in the battle. Many more dwarves had died, but this room under the mountain was theirs alone, for they were of the line of kings. Bard had paid his respects by placing the Arkenstone on Thorin's breast, and Thranduil—much to Tauriel's surprise—had placed the sword Orcrist on top of the late king's sarcophagus.

Though certainly she was not the only one who grieved, they all left her alone to hers, and the young elf fell to her knees as she had on Ravenhill, sobbing as her heart continued to break.

She knew not how long she stayed that way, but eventually the hardness of the stone beneath her knees allowed physical pain to hold sway over Tauriel's emotional distress, and so she rose stiffly to her feet. Wiping her cheeks, she kissed the fingertips of her right hand and touched them to Kíli's tomb, then she turned and quickly walked away.

Outside the gate of Erebor, she saw a small party waiting across the makeshift bridge. Among them was Thranduil, and her back stiffened; though he had seen her pain and acknowledged that her love for Kíli was genuine, Mirkwood's king _had_ banished her from his realm. And if her defiance of him had not been reason enough, certainly drawing her bow on him in front of his soldiers would be. Her breath hitched in her chest at the sudden realization that not only was she heartbroken for the second time in her six hundred-plus years, but homeless as well.

Facing Thranduil now was low on her list of things she desired to do. She glanced over the faces of the three dwarves and the Man who stood to Thranduil's right—Bard, if she recalled correctly. They all seemed to be waiting for her, and so Tauriel drew a breath and marched forward.

"Majesty," she addressed Thranduil with a slight bow of her head, though she did not look at him.

"Tauriel," he replied. "I believe it is time we took our leave."

Now her eyes found his, her gaze wary. "Has my Lord forgotten that he banished me?" she asked.

Thranduil sighed. "I have not forgotten. But much has transpired since I made that edict which has shown me that I acted foolishly. I was angry, and such is not a mindset in which one should make so strong a choice. Forgive me, Tauriel, and come home. Take your place one more as a Captain of the Guard."

It took her a moment to find words with which to respond. "You are most kind, sire, to rescind the order of banishment against me—so please, do not think me spiteful when I say that I cannot accept you… at least not yet. I need time to heal the wounds of my heart before I can be of greatest service to you."

Thranduil shared a look with Bard she could not interpret. When he faced her again, the Elf-king nodded. "I thought you might be of such a mind. To that end, Bard and I have taken council with one another and he wishes to make an offer to you."

Curious in spite of herself, Tauriel turned to Bard, who gave her a nod and said, "First, allow me to convey my deepest gratitude, Captain. My children have told me you were the first to defend them against the orcs who came looking for Thorin and his kin."

"Legolas was there also, my Lord," she replied simply.

"They told me that as well—but it was you who stayed with them and in the wake of Smaug's attack on Lake-town, it was you who urged them to flee to safety. I cannot thank you enough for seeing their lives spared."

Words once again escaped her—the expression on his face was clear demonstration that he felt indebted to her for his offspring's safe keeping. "I did only what was right," she said at last.

Drawing another deep breath, she then asked, "What of this offer King Thranduil spoke of?"

Bard glanced over his shoulder for a moment; she followed his gaze to the ruined city of Dale. "My people are in great need, Captain. Few of us remain who are skilled in the art of war, and that makes us vulnerable. We cannot properly defend our home if we cannot avail ourselves in combat, so my proposal is thus: Stay on in Dale with my kin through the winter. Lord Dain here has pledged to provide armor and weapons. Your combat training would provide us with the skill to use them. In time, we'll be better equipped and able to defend ourselves and our city."

Tauriel looked from Bard to Thranduil to the three dwarves. "Men taught by an elf to fight with weapons made by dwarves?"

"No greater combination could be found in all of Middle-earth, Captain," said Dain with a smile.

"A task such as this will keep your own skills sharp, Tauriel, until you are ready to come home again," observed Thranduil.

Tauriel thought of Mirkwood, and her heart squeezed painfully as her mind was suddenly filled with memories of Kíli, for it was there under the webs of the spiders that she had first met him. And of all places, it was in the dungeon of the palace that he had charmed his way into her heart.

No, she could not go back. Not yet. At that moment, she could not imagine a time she would be able to walk among those trees or the halls of the castle and not think of her loss.

For the third time, she drew a deep breath and prepared to speak. "I shall accept your offer, Lord Bard, but only if you grant me one concession."

Bard's eyebrow rose. "Pray tell, what caveat do you require?"

"That I should not teach only men to fight," she replied. "Any woman or elder girl who wishes to learn ought be allowed to do so, for proof enough has been seen these recent days past that even those without weapons may be felled by them."

He nodded. "Indeed, it is a sad truth you say. And so shall it be that the ladies who desire to learn defense shall take instruction with you alongside the men."

"It's settled!" Dain cried. "So today we bid farewell to Thranduil's company, and tonight we feast in honor of the fallen brave. Then tomorrow, we begin the task of rebuilding two kingdoms—Erebor and Dale shall be strong once more!"

Bard clapped a hand on the Dwarf-king's shoulder. "Tomorrow begins a new day for us all. I am gratified that we shall greet the dawn together in friendship."

"Aye, it pleases me also," Dain replied.

"I, too, am pleased that we part on good terms," added Thranduil. "Too many lives have been lost on all sides to waste time over petty squabbles. May the future long see us as peaceful neighbors."

Saying goodbye then to the Elven-king, the dwarves stepped past Tauriel and returned to the mountain. Thranduil looked to Bard then and said, "If I may have a word alone with Tauriel, Lord Bard…"

"Of course," Bard replied. "Captain, I shall meet you in the market in due time—it is there that we are to gather to discuss and organize the clearing of the city."

"Yes, my Lord," Tauriel acknowledged, and with another nod to Thranduil, Bard took his leave of them.

"Walk with me… if you will," Thranduil said after a moment.

Tauriel followed in silence as he turned toward the gathered company of elves near the gate of the city. "I should not have been so harsh with you," the king said, switching to Sindarin. "After all, it is not as though I am unaware of your particular proclivities. For many years you have suggested we take an interest in matters outside of our borders—your following the dwarves merely forced my hand sooner than I'd have liked. Declaring you banished was rash, a decision influenced by anger and not logic."

"On the contrary, sire," she replied stiffly. "It was but a logical punishment for one who defied your orders, even if I was not technically present to hear them."

"But a punishment that was far more severe than the crime deserved," he countered, his speech slipping back to the Common tongue. "Even I can admit to that."

"If you say so, my Lord."

"Tauriel," Thranduil said, taking her by the arm as he stopped. Not until she turned her eyes to his did he speak again. " _Goheno_ _nin_ —for my treatment of you and for your loss. It is clear to me that both pain you greatly."

She fought the tears that stung her eyes. "I assure you Majesty, losing my beloved before he knew my true feeling for him wounds me far more deeply than your words ever could. Even were I still banished, it would not matter, for a home can be made anywhere."

Thranduil reached a hand under her chin and lifted it gently, until her eyes met his. "But a heart that is shattered finds shelter nowhere. Trust me in this. I pray, my daughter, that one day yours will be whole again—that one day not far from now, you will once more be at peace. Then you will know it is time to come home."

* * *

 **Sindarin translation:**

 _Goheno_ _nin_ \- Forgive me


	2. Chapter 2

"Captain Tauriel!"

Lifting her head, Tauriel looked to see Bard coming toward her. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement, then heaved yet another orc head onto the nearly overflowing cart full of bodies and parts of the slain enemy.

"This one's full, Halia. Take it out," she called to the woman who had climbed into the wagon's seat. Halia gave a sharp crack to the reins and the horse attached to the cart plodded forward. Tauriel watched her go for a moment, then turned to Bard. She pulled the scarf she had tied around her face to hold the stench of the rotting orc bodies at bay from her nose, and took a deep breath of somewhat cleaner air as he stopped before her.

"Yes, my Lord?"

Bard waved off her words. "Please, there is no need to stand on ceremony. Just Bard will do."

"Allow me then to extend you the same courtesy—I am just Tauriel. No need to call me 'Captain'," she replied.

"If it pleases you," Bard said.

"What can I do for you, Bard?"

He took a breath. "I've just spoken with an envoy from Erebor—Dain has invited all of the people of Lake-town to join his kin in that great feast he spoke of."

Tauriel froze, unable to breathe for an entire heartbeat. Images of Kíli both in life and in death flashed before her eyes, and she was hard put to remember she needed air.

Drawing a shaky breath, she turned away from Bard and started for another orc body part lying in the street. For the last several hours, she and the survivors of Lake-town had been piling up the orcs to be carted out of the city and burned, while their own people and the fallen elves were to be given the dignified burials they deserved.

"I have no desire to ever set foot in that mountain again, my Lord," she managed at last.

"Tauriel, this feast is to honor the fallen—our brothers and sisters and friends who died in battle," Bard implored her. "Gathering in their memory, sharing in story and song, we honor those we loved and lost."

Dropping the severed leg she had picked up, Tauriel whirled to face him. "I am well versed in the ways Men and Dwarves honor their fallen, and I refuse to take part in it!"

Bard blinked, the only evidence that she had startled him with her vehemence. "Forgive me," he said softly. "I intended only to see your pain lessened."

Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "I know I am not the only one who lost someone dear, but clearly I am not fit to keep company with."

Nodding in acquiescence, Bard turned to walk away. After a moment he turned back. "If you will not join us this evening, might I ask you something?"

"You are free to ask me any question you like," she told him.

"How do elves mourn their dead?"

She could not help but think of Thranduil, and how she knew that after the death of his wife, and of their kin he had witnessed falling in battle, he had closed his heart to almost everyone save his son... and even theirs was a relationship now strained. In that respect, however, she and her king were much alike—for Tauriel could feel a wall already forming around what remained of her own heart.

"Elf-kind often light lanterns to guide the spirits of the dead on a path to the Halls of Mandos, from there to join our kin in Valinor," she confessed. "And we sing laments to… to honor their memory."

Bard offered a small smile. "You see? We are not so unalike, yours and mine. Are you sure you will not join us?"

Tauriel shook her head. "As I said, sire, I am not fit company to keep. Besides, my heart is yet too filled with grief to raise my voice in song."

"Then I shall make you this promise: I will sing a verse for you," he told her, then chuckled. "That is, if I drink enough ale to make an attempt. I'm not much of a singer."

* * *

Though there was still much work yet to be done both in Dale and in Erebor to make either city truly fit for habitation, the Men and Dwarves took leave from their work to feast together in honor of the men and women (and in some sad cases, children) whose lives had been lost in what was already being called the Battle of the Five Armies. Bard had spent a couple of hours already at the side of Dain, who as Thorin's cousin was the next heir to the title of King under the Mountain, drinking and eating and sharing stories.

Well, mostly he listened to Dain's stories. The dwarves were not shy with their tales of valor, especially those concerning Thorin. His nephews Kíli and Fíli were mentioned often, and Bard could not help but think Tauriel would have liked to know these things about the young dwarf who had somehow captured her heart. It still amazed him—given the long-standing enmity between Elves and Dwarves—that two such disparate people as Kíli and Tauriel could fall in love. But if the pain he saw behind her eyes each time he looked at her was any indication, she had loved him truly.

He knew the pain behind that look. Though his wife had died from illness, losing her had hurt him no less.

"Tell us again, Bard the Dragon-slayer!" cried Bombur suddenly. Bard looked over as the dwarf threw back another mouthful of ale. "Tell the story of how you slew that slimy serpent Smaug!"

Bard shook his head. "I've told that story three times already," he said with a chuckle.

"It's a great story, lad!" Dain bellowed. "And what a tale! Using your boy's shoulder as a balance for the black arrow was genius!"

"There you go, Bombur," said Bard with a grin, gesturing toward the Dwarf-king. "That's how the slimy serpent was slain."

The feast went on that way for another few hours, with stories being told and re-told. Songs were sung and then sung over again. Much food was eaten and ale consumed before dwarf and man alike began to fall asleep where they sat. Bard found himself thinking of Tauriel once more, and how she had seemed to prefer being left alone with her grief. He couldn't leave her like that, wallowing in solitary misery, and so he got up from the table and began to make his way out of the hall. Hardly anyone made a protest at his departure, and so he knew he would likely not be missed here.

Several minutes later he was crossing the bridge into Dale. Although Tauriel had retired to the Great Hall with his children when he and the others attending the feast had departed, Bard somehow knew that the single light he saw in the gate watchtower was her doing, and so he made his way there. She said nothing as he came up through the trapdoor, and he remained silent as he joined her in looking out over the spread of land between the broken city walls and the Lonely Mountain.

"I lit a lantern for him," she said after a long moment of silence. "It was all I could bring myself to do. I cannot sing a song, I cannot dance a dance, and I cannot tell a tale, as I knew him not nearly long enough to know many about him."

"You knew him long enough to love him," Bard replied quietly. "Something tells me that for Kíli, lighting a lantern would suffice."

Silence passed between them again for many heartbeats. And again it was Tauriel who broke it, saying, "Thank you, Bard."

"Whatever for?"

She looked at him. "For understanding that I needed to be alone."

Bard nodded. "You are welcome, Tauriel. But I pray you would not dwell too long in your solitude and forget that there is life around you also. At risk of incurring your wrath, I do not think your beloved would want you to waste away in despair. Move on with your life. Find a purpose and hold fast to it."

Her smile was bitter as she turned her gaze back toward the mountain she had sworn never to enter again. "I do not know how to move on. Once I had a purpose, but even that seems like a lifetime ago. How does anyone break free of the iron fist of grief?"

Hoping he was not overstepping a boundary, Bard gently laid his hand on top of hers, where it rested on the railing. Her indrawn breath was audible and she would have pulled her hand away had he not held fast to it.

"It will take time, and there will be many nights in which you will cry yourself to sleep—I know this because I have been where you are now. There were days, weeks even, after my wife's passing that I did not even desire to rise from our bed, but I got up anyway. I had to, Tauriel, because my children had already lost their mother. I could not take their father from them as well."

"You had three very important reasons to keep living, my Lord Bard," Tauriel replied slowly. "But I do not even have one. How can I find a reason to live when there is none for me?"

Bard released her hand in favor of taking her shoulders in both of his, turning her so that she faced him as he said, "Just because you do not yet see it does not mean such a thing does not exist. Your reason to live is out there, Tauriel, and you must take to your bed each night with the hope—nay, the belief—that each new dawn brings you ever closer to discovering just what that reason is."


	3. Chapter 3

In the first week following the battle, each day was spent much as the one before it: The streets were cleared of the dead and the rubble left in the wake of the orcs' rampage through the city. Dain was generous enough to send a company of dwarves from Erebor to help with the latter, with as much of the stone as it was possible to save being used in the reconstruction of the city wall. Some was also used in repairing the homes in the residential district and the shops in the market to make them hospitable once more.

Slowly but surely the beleaguered group began to feel more like themselves again; it was with a sense of hope for a brighter future that they settled into Dale to wait out winter.

Although he denied any claim to leadership, it was nonetheless Bard to whom everyone turned for instruction. He was the one they looked to for keeping things organized, safe, and to whom they went to have differences settled. As such, when it came time to select a home for himself and his children, it was no surprise that the people insisted he establish his residence in the Lord's manor. It was far too stately for his liking, with too many rooms and not enough people in his family to fill them. It was for this reason that he took in Halia—a middle-aged widow with no other family, her only son having died in the attack on Lake-town—as a housekeeper and cook.

And though she protested as vehemently as she possibly could, Bard was firm in his insistence that Tauriel join his family in the manor also. To his mind, it would lessen the chances of her wallowing in her grief.

"Besides," he had said with a smile. "My girls have grown quite fond of you. Would you have them disappointed by your living in the old barracks with the guardsmen?"

Tauriel had been hard-pressed to argue the point, and so had conceded. Bard considered it a step in the right direction.

On Monday of the second week, he and several others discussed making a trek back to their ruined homes in order to gather whatever could possibly be salvaged—if nothing else, the wood not completely ruined by the dragon would serve to keep everyone warm at night. Once it was settled who would stay behind to watch over those who were too young or weakened by injury to make the journey, a group of about fifty men and women fell into line and began to make their way out of the city.

They were soon spotted by a lookout on the mountain, and before they had got far, several dwarves—among them Balin and Dwalin—were jogging steadily toward them. Bard ordered Percy to continue on with the group while he and Tauriel met with their neighbors.

"Hail, Bard!" called Balin. "Where are you all off to? I thought you were planning to settle in Dale?"

Bard smiled down at him from atop his white stallion. "And we are, my friend. But there may yet be things in Lake-town that can be salvaged. Now that the city is cleared of orc filth, it is time to turn our shelter into our home—and how better to make a place feel like home than to be surrounded by that which is familiar?"

"'Tis a noble cause," Balin replied. "Are you in need of assistance? You know already that we dwarves are sturdy folk."

Dwalin snorted. "He just wants to get his hands on that dragon carcass," the warrior dwarf said.

"And why should he not?" spoke up Tauriel. "Dragon scales would make fine shields if you can part them from the hide. The claws and teeth would make for good spears or sword grips."

"Orcrist has a dragon's tooth for a grip," said another of the dwarves.

"If you've a mind to take from the dragon, by all means—I will not stop you," Bard told them. "But bear in mind that your Lord gave his word to provide my people with weapons for defense of our city. I entreat you to allow us first choice, as it was, after all, our homes which were destroyed by the dragon whose slumber you disturbed."

He hadn't meant to shame them, only remind them that his people were more in need than their own. Balin held his gaze and nodded.

"Aye, that is true," the white-bearded dwarf agreed. "So we shall gather all that can be taken from that wretched beast, and make weapons for all of you who shall desire or need them, and take our choice from what remains."

"Seems a fair trade, my friend," Bard replied. "Shall we be off then?"

And so it was that the company increased, and onward they moved toward the ruined Lake-town. They reached it by midday, at which time a quick meal was eaten before the boats that remained on the shore were set into the water. Balin and the dwarves went immediately to the dragon, quickly getting to work on removing teeth and claws.

"Best get to work quickly lads," Balin was heard to say. "By spring this wretch will sit on the bottom of these shallows—already he sinks lower, even atop the ruin of these homes."

As they floated past on their way further into town, Percy said to Bard, "You know… it's almost a shame to see all that dragon meat going to waste. That there beast could have fed us well into spring."

"Be glad you do not have to eat it," Tauriel remarked. "Dragon flesh is as tough as leather."

The men laughed as they continued on. By the evening when Bard called for camp to be made, there were several piles of clothing, housewares, and wood already waiting to be taken back to Dale.

"What do you think, sire?" asked Percy. "One more day?"

Bard looked around at the company and nodded. "Aye. We spend all of tomorrow gathering the rest of what is of use to us. The day after, we return home."

"Speaking of home…" the older man said, his voice dropping off.

Bard looked to him. "What is it, Percy? Speak freely, my friend."

Percy looked at a few of the others before returning his gaze to Bard. "Well, we all understand what Dale means to you. It's your ancestral home and all that."

"I'm a man of Esgaroth, same as you," Bard reminded him.

"Aye, that you are. But your forefather Girion was Lord of Dale, as you—however reluctantly—are now. It's only right you should make your home there, now you've got the means to rebuild that fine city."

Bard glanced at Tauriel, who merely raised an eyebrow. He looked back to Percy and said, "Tell me what is on your mind, Percy, and also apparently on the minds of others."

"We want to rebuild Esgaroth, my Lord," Percy replied. "Some of the families will no doubt stay on in Dale, but I know of some who have no desire to see our home pass into legend."

A man across the fire said, "We figure we've as much cause to rebuild our homes as you have Dale, or even the Dwarves in the mountain. It's where our forefathers lived before us, and we wish to live there again."

"Will you rebuild around the dragon, then?" Bard asked.

"No," Percy said then. "Those of us what's talked of it figure a new location is ideal for the new Esgaroth. I'd personally set us by the wooded hills down south aways. I figure anyone wishing to resettle Esgaroth stay in Dale until the last frost, then we come back down to the lake and by spring's end we would have a new city started."

Bard looked thoughtfully at the faces around the campfire. His gaze fell once more on Tauriel, who said quietly, "I am here only to train them for battle."

"So you are," Bard said, then turned back to Percy at last. "I led the people of Lake-town to Dale only because I thought it safest from the elements, but you are right—it _is_ my ancestral home. There has always been some small part of me that desired to someday see the glory of Dale restored, and though not precisely my intention in going there, I begin to see it now as my purpose."

"Makes sense that a king would desire to see his city come alive again," said the woman sitting to Tauriel's right.

Bard shook his head. "I've told you all before, do not call me that," he said.

"Forgive me, my Lord, if I speak out of turn," Tauriel said slowly, "but you are descended of Girion who was Lord of Dale, are you not?"

Once more Bard's piercing gaze found her. "Aye."

"Then you are Lord to your people already by virtue of your lineage. And although you did not desire or seek it, you _have_ become the leader of these people," the elf went on. "You are the one who gives them direction and purpose. You have seen that they are fed and sheltered, and it has not escaped you that they are in need of protection against those who would do them harm. You allied with the King of Mirkwood against the Dwarves of Erebor when it seemed they would not part with fair settlement from the dragon's hoard—not because you sought riches beyond measure, but because you were interested only in the well-being of your people… My Lord Bard, are these not the deeds of one who would make a good king?"

A murmur went around the camp at her words; the men and women agreed with her. Taking a deep breath, Bard regarded them all in turn before saying, "If the people of Esgaroth truly desire to name me their king, I will forego any further attempts to sway them otherwise—on one condition: I will seek no kingship over these lands until the cities of Dale and Esgaroth flourish, and the peoples of the East and the West know us as a force to be reckoned with."


	4. Chapter 4

Life in Dale soon settled into a routine.

Breakfast and lunch were eaten at home with family, while dinner became a community affair in the Great Hall. The people often glanced up at the wall over the grand fireplace, where now hung the black arrow that had felled Smaug. The dwarves had pried it from the dragon's body and presented it to Bard back when they had gone on their salvaging expedition.

Due to the inclement weather, the Great Hall also became Tauriel's training ground. In the mornings after breakfast, she taught swordsmanship and knife fighting. In the afternoons following lunch, she taught archery and hand-to-hand combat. To her relief, no one argued that they did not have need of a proper education in the defensive arts—they were, after all, for the most part fishermen. She was glad to see that some of the women and older girls were eager to learn as well, and for those that chose not to take part, the elf elected to teach them what she knew of healing. Sigrid and Tilda determined that they would plant a garden in the spring just for growing medicinal plants.

Including kingsfoil.

Because he would in the spring become the Lord of Esgaroth—a title he was just as uncomfortable with as Bard was of becoming King—Percy became one of Tauriel's most dedicated students. Like Bard, he had come to the position of leader somewhat by default, and he was determined that he would not let the people of his city down. Bain, too, was an apt pupil, no doubt because he wished to earn his father's pride, if not also because he would one day himself be called King of Dale.

In those weeks, Tauriel found herself spending a great deal of time in Bard's company. Besides the fact that he had insisted she take a room in the Lord's manor over the soldier's barracks, he attended many of her training sessions. Bard said it was to observe her technique as she trained his people to defend themselves, as he rarely took part himself. After the midday meal, they often walked together through the town, and he would remark on the progress of the reconstruction. She would tell him of her progress with her students. When either was frustrated, they seemed drawn most to each other for help sorting themselves out.

It was not long before the elf came to the realization that Bard more often sought her out than she did him, and considering his attention to her, Tauriel feared he might be developing feelings for her. Grateful for the friendship he had freely offered, she had no desire to do him harm by rejecting him out of hand—she simply was of no mind whatsoever to feel that way about anyone. In light of how broken she had been by Kíli's death, she knew it was not even possible for her to love again.

And so, one bitter night when she had taken over the watch at the mountain gate—and Bard had brought her a skin full of hot tea as he often did—she determined to ask him about his intention toward her.

"How goes the watch, Captain?" he asked, rubbing his hands together as he looked out across the way to the Lonely Mountain.

"All goes quiet, my Lord," she replied. "Not a peep from the dwarves."

Bard smiled. "Good to hear. Hopefully the rest of your night goes as well."

"Indeed," she said, feeling nervous about what she intended to ask, but also feeling the need to know if her suspicions were correct.

"Bard, there's… Oh, never mind." It was foolish to even think it, she chided herself. She was seeing something that wasn't there—he was but a good man who had been kind to her, nothing more.

"Pray, what vexes you, Tauriel?" he asked, his countenance etched with concern.

She shook her head. "It is nothing, truly. I just… I have found myself wondering something, and have thought to ask you of it."

"If something troubles you, my Lady, I hope you would not find it difficult to confide in me. Are we not friends, you and I?" Bard asked.

Tauriel turned to him. "That's just it: _Are_ we friends? Am I not merely a soldier in your employ?"

The question was not direct, for she found she could not ask it as such. But her hope was fervent that his answer would still her troubled thoughts.

Bard turned around and leaned back against the railing. "Yes, I employed you as a military instructor. I thought your wage fair, but if you believe you are deserving of more, I would willingly discuss an increase."

"I have no trouble with your payment for my services, my Lord. You are right, it is quite fair."

He frowned and crossed his arms. "Then I desire you would tell me what bothers you so, for I do not understand. Do you think it inappropriate that you take rooms in my home, or that an employer should not claim friendship with one whom he hires for a trade?"

"No!" she declared. "I am pleased by it! More than that, I am grateful to have such a friend as you. It's just that… well, my Lord, I do not understand it. For what reason have you to be my friend?"

Bard uncrossed his arms, his expression softening. "Tauriel, do you think so little of yourself that you do not believe you are worthy of friendship?"

"I do not know that I am worthy of the friendship of a king," she returned. "To my Lord Thranduil, I was but a soldier—a lowly Silvan Elf not even worthy of the affections of his high-born son."

Her companion frowned again. "A 'lowly Silvan Elf'? I did not know that there was a class system in your culture."

"Oh, but there is. Many of my kin that live in Middle-earth now are of the Sindar, the last of the Eldar who chose to remain here for a time in lieu of sailing to the west with our ancestors. They are what Men call the 'ruling class'. Silvan Elves are descended from a line which outright refused to make the Great Journey and for that choice were judged less wise than our kin, so were relegated to being what you might call the 'working class'."

Bard sighed. "And Thranduil is of this so-called ruling class?" he asked.

Tauriel nodded. "He is of the Sindar. A noble man from a noble bloodline, and a king as was his father before him. I am of Silvan heritage."

He remained silent until she met his eyes with hers. "Tauriel, hear me now and heed my words: Nobility is not a right of birth."

She raised an eyebrow. "Says the man who will be king, as was his ancestor."

"Being born of noble blood does not make a noble man," he pressed. "I say the same of your Elven king. Our choices define us, Tauriel, not to whom or what class we were born. When first I offered you employment, it was because Thranduil knew you would not want to return to Mirkwood for a time, and I needed some way to thank you for what you had done for my family. As I had decided to trust you with the training of my men, I determined that I should get to know you as a person as well as a fighter—and I am glad for it. "

She felt a tentative smile lift the corners of her mouth, and Bard smiled in return. He then turned to look out toward the mountain once more.

"The truth is, in you I saw myself as I was when I lost my wife—someone who was in great pain, who needed another to do for you as my children had done for me. It was vital you be surrounded by people, as I was, so that you would always be reminded that you are never truly alone. To that end, I hope I have done you a good service. In the care you took of my children in Lake-town and throughout your time here in Dale, you have shown me that you _are_ a noble woman. You are intelligent, resourceful, kind, and exceptionally skilled in the art of defense, Tauriel. I find you easy to talk to, especially when I am in need of an objective opinion on whatever troubles me; also, I truly enjoy just having a conversation with you. A person of such character as you have would make any man—noble or otherwise—a most worthy friend."

He turned his head to look at her. "I have indeed come to think of you as one of my friends, and it would do me an honor to be counted among yours."

Smiling fully now, Tauriel felt a weight lift from her. His intentions toward her had only ever been platonic, and she had been a fool to think otherwise. Truth be told, it warmed her heart to know that Bard thought of her as a friend, someone he trusted with the lives of his people and especially those of his children, whom she knew meant more to him than anything. That he had sought to help her find some measure of peace meant more than she could put into words. And still being honest with herself, she enjoyed talking to him as well. Bard was wise beyond his years, had a keen mind for organization, and he cared for all the people from his village—even the ones he didn't know well or like all that much. He was brave and he was strong, and always aimed to do what was right versus what was easy.

Laying one of her hands atop his, she looked at him, her expression earnest. "I count few in this world as a true friend, my Lord Bard," she said. " _You_ honor _me_ to claim me as one of yours, and I can do no less but to value you as one of mine."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: There has been a minor revision to this chapter to accommodate the funeral scene in the extended edition of _The Battle of the Five Armies_.**

* * *

On the evening of the last day of the year, Dain made good on his word.

Not on delivering a fourteenth share of the dragon's hoard for the people of Lake-town, as that had been done in the first days after the battle. But after weeks of waiting, the weapons and armor he had sworn to provide were presented at last.

The Dwarf-king made a grand gesture of his gifts, marching across the bridge with a large company, in among them large carts pulled by war-rams. Bard was quickly summoned to the mountain gate, where Dain announced he had brought not only the instruments of defense he had promised them a month before, but food and ale for a great feast.

"A new year for Men begins on the morrow, we should celebrate!" Dain declared.

As their supplies were minimal at best, even considering all that Thranduil had brought before the fateful battle, Bard heartily bid Dain and his followers welcome.

"Thank you for this feast you have brought us, my Lord Dain. You are proving a most generous neighbor," he added.

"Lad, we've had this conversation already," Dain countered. "As we're practically sittin' on each other's doorstep, we've got to live with each other—like it or not. So we might as well get along."

Bard laughed. "How right you are. Come, let us make haste to the Great Hall, that whatever hot foods you have brought are still warm when they pass our lips."

With each home they passed, the crowd around the procession grew. Runners sped off ahead to prepare the Great Hall for their arrival, and by the time they reached it, the archery targets had been cleared away and long tables sat aligned with three of the four walls, with two more in the middle. A fire was lit in the great stone hearth, and children eagerly aided their mothers in setting out plates and utensils.

The food was quickly distributed, and both Dain and Bard bid everyone to eat their fill. While none who were there gave them chance to change their mind, more than one curious eye was cast toward the trunk that had been carried in and set before the head table. Other such trunks remained outside with the carts that had carried them, and the people of Dale murmured throughout the meal, speculating as to what they contained.

After an hour's passing, Dain—who sat next to Bard at the head table—stood and whistled loudly for everyone's attention. He then walked around the table to stand next to the trunk that had been brought inside and opened it.

"Men and women of Dale, Dwarves of Erebor and the Iron Hills—and of course, the lovely she-elf of Mirkwood," the old Dwarf began, addressing the room. "Never will I allow it said that Dain Ironfoot, Lord of the Iron Hills and King under the Mountain, does not honor his word. More than a moon past, I made a promise to Lord Bard that Durin's Folk would make fine, sturdy weapons for he and his. Tonight I honor that accord. Although you have many useful weapons in your armory from days past, I and mine have brought swords, bows and arrows, and axes that are new and strong, enough for each man and strong lad to claim one as his own."

Cheers and applause rang out, and Dain waited until the crowd had settled before he continued. "There is armor also, and shields for all the strong fighters of this city, some of them made from what few scales could be parted from the serpent that sent you fleeing to this place for shelter. Some swords and daggers are made from the bugger's teeth."

He looked at Bard then. "For you Bard, the slayer of that foul beast, I personally made weapons befitting a king."

Bard rose slowly as Dáin turned back to the chest before him and flipped up a bit of cloth. He then lifted a longbow up for all to see—Bard could tell immediately that the riser had been crafted, at least in part, from what looked like black bone.

"From a single claw I carved out the grip of this bow," Dáin explained. "It is inlaid with silver and gold, and fastened to it with bands of mithril is the finest wood for sailing an arrow straight into the heart of any enemy."

Bard took the exquisitely crafted bow almost reverently. He studied it closely, marveling at how the wood had been inserted into the grip, which was almost as long as his arm. Turning it upright, he held it straight and pulled the string, reveling at the feel of it in his hands. Relaxing his stance, he looked to Dáin and bowed his head.

"My deepest thanks, my Lord Dáin, for such a finely crafted bow," he said. "May my aim with it be always true."

"Ask him about the inscription!" cried Oin, one of the dwarves who had been in Lake-town.

Bard turned the bow in his hand and noted that the front was indeed inlaid with silver and gold—runes had been carved into it and filled in with the precious metals. "What does it say?" he asked Dáin.

"Along the top limb it says, 'For he has slain a dragon great'; on the bottom 'Let all his foes share in that fate.'"

A mixture of cheers and applause went around the hall a second time—even Tauriel applauded. Bard looked to her where she sat at his left and smiled, then he looked back at the Dwarf across the table.

"My compliments also to your poetry," he said.

Dáin bellowed a laugh that reverberated around the hall, then turned back to the trunk. Drawing two more items out of it, he presented Bard with a sword and a dagger; the grip of each was a tooth. In the middle of the cross-guard, on both sides of each weapon, had been set glittering gems; in the sword were emeralds, in the dagger were diamonds. Setting the bow on the table, Bard took the sword and hefted it. The weight was perfectly balanced for either hand, though the grip was long enough that he could wield it with both. The dagger had a blade of steel that curved slightly, and the blade of the sword was a straight length of steel etched with more runes, which Dáin translated as "Defender of Dale."

After Dáin had presented him with the new weapons, Bard toasted his fellow leader, and all raised their glasses. After drinking to a toast of "continued allegiance between our adjoining nations", Dáin then ordered that the other trunks of weapons be brought in and their contents distributed. From the one out of which he'd retrieved Bard's weapons, the Dwarves' leader pulled a similar set and presented them to Bain. To Sigrid and Tilda, he gave each a small dagger with jewels set into the grip and pommel.

And to her apparent surprise, Dáin also had weapons for Tauriel—he gave her a dagger like the one he'd given Bard's daughters, and in a move that clearly had the elf fighting tears, he also presented her with a short sword of Dwarvish design that he quietly told her had belonged to Kíli. Bard noted that she appeared to recognize it. He wondered where Dáin could have gotten it, as he knew it could not have been the one Kíli had carried with him on that fateful run up Ravenhill with Thorin—that had been buried with him.

"How did you get this?" she said as she held took it in hand.

"I sent your king the baubles he'd come for," Dáin replied gruffly. "The property confiscated from the company when they passed through Mirkwood was delivered to the mountain this morning. Bofur thought you might like to have it. But if you'd rather not—"

She stopped his words with a shake of her head. "I am honored that you would trust me with Kíli's sword."

Bofur had come up to stand at Dáin's side as she spoke, and he said to her, "I'll be honest and admit I'm as amazed as anyone by it, but that boy cared about you, Tauriel. I think he'd want you to have something of his to remember him by."

Tauriel offered the dwarf a brief smile. "It is a most heartwarming thought, Master Dwarf. Though I need no trinket to remind me of him, I repeat that I am honored to receive this gift. Thank you."

Dáin nodded, then he and Bofur turned as one and helped their kin in delving out the other weapons to the people of Dale. Bard returned to his seat, smiling at the joyous reactions of the townspeople. He also kept a surreptitious watch on the woman at his side who, though naturally a quiet person by nature, seemed to have grown even quieter as she held the sword to her chest and bowed her head, her eyes closed. Concern flared in his breast, and he was surprised by the strength of the sudden desire to comfort her. Of course, knowing how she preferred to deal with her emotions privately, Bard knew the only thing he could do was leave her in peace, and direct all attention away from her until she was ready to speak up again.

When the impromptu celebration died down sometime later, Tauriel was the first to leave the Great Hall. Bard was again struck with the desire to comfort the elf, to follow her and see if she was all right. But he could not, as he had the children to look after and the people to see safely to their homes—not to mention he had to see the dwarves out of the city. Some of the men and more than one of the dwarves were good and drunk, and he felt he could hardly let them go wandering about on their own in such a condition.

To his relief, Halia took charge of his offspring so that he could see to his other duties. Once he was certain the other families were being seen to by someone not inebriated, he joined the company of dwarves on their trek toward the mountain gate. There he exchanged hearty goodbyes with all, and once more he gave profuse thanks to Dáin for his generosity. The Dwarf-king waved off his words, saying the only thanks he required was continued peace with Dale… although being invited to another such feast in the near future, he added, would certainly be a welcome repayment.

Turning back into the city after Dáin's departure, Bard ordered the gate closed and headed for his own home. As he walked, his thoughts once again turned to Tauriel. He wondered where she had gone after her departure from the Great Hall, as she was not in her usual nighttime perch in the mountain-view watchtower. Then again, it was not her night to take the post, so she could be anywhere. On impulse, he headed for the old barracks and looked inside, but she was not there. He quickly left and headed for home, hoping that by the time he returned…so had she.

* * *

 **A/N: I know that Khuzdul, the language of the Dwarves, is kept secret and known only to them. I figure that since he had placed an inscription on Bard's weapons in the language of his people, custom would allow Dáin to translate what those runes said.**


	6. Chapter 6

When Bard reached the manor, he was pleased to see that indeed, his housemate had returned.

What surprised him about it, however, was finding her sitting on the front steps with Kíli's sword across her knees. "Why do you sit out here in the freezing cold, my friend?" he asked as he approached. "Come inside with me, where there is surely a warm fire to sit beside."

Shaking her head at his words, Tauriel said, "I do not feel the cold."

"Please, indulge my foolish concern anyway," he pleaded. "Surely even Elf-kind are at risk of catching their death in such temperatures."

For a moment she looked as though she would argue the point, but to his relief she only nodded and stood, following behind as he entered the manor at last. Once the door was shut behind them Bard lifted his bow over his head, then removed his coat and sword belt; the coat he hung on a peg by the door, the weapons he carried with him to a chair by the fireplace.

Sitting in one of the two, he laid his sword and bow beside him as he gestured to the other. "Come and warm yourself, Tauriel."

The elf complied in silence, sitting across from him with the sword across her knees. The faraway look that settled on her face once more stirred his concern.

"Are you all right?" Bard asked softly.

"Why do you ask, my Lord?"

"You have uttered hardly a word since receiving that sword—are you certain that having a memento of Kíli does not upset you unnecessarily?" he asked.

"I was tempted to keep the stone he gave me," she told him.

"What stone?"

Tauriel glance over at him briefly before her eyes fell on the sword. "On the shore of the Long Lake, when he and the other dwarves who had been left behind in Lake-town were leaving to join their kin in the mountain, Kíli gave me a blue marble rune stone. In Mirkwood he told me that his mother had given it to him as a reminder of his promise to return to her."

Her sniffle told Bard that she was on the verge of crying. He remained silent as she fought to gain control over her emotions.

"He put the stone in my hand and told me to keep it as a promise," she continued after a time. "He had just called me 'my love' in the language of his kin, and we were parting from one another. I believe he meant that I should keep it as a promise to return to him."

"And so you did," Bard remarked.

When she looked up again, he saw that her eyes were indeed wet with unshed tears. "How could I not? I loved him, too. But I arrived too late, and now must live with the regret that I did not avail myself of the chance to tell him so before that bastard Bolg took his life."

With a shake of her head, Tauriel took a ragged breath. "Forgive me, my Lord. I mean not to darken your evening with my melancholy."

Bard regarded her thoughtfully, yet again surprised by how powerfully he felt compelled to draw her to him in an attempt to ease her sorrow. It was a foolish notion, he knew… yet still it was a struggle to remain where he was.

"What happened to the stone?" he asked at last.

His companion looked once more toward the fire as she said, "I returned it to him. Kíli now holds the stone in his grasp, where it shall remain entombed with him until the ending of the world."

* * *

The days of winter passed one to another. Bard knew the people were getting restless, with so little they could do until the days were warmer. Reconstruction had been halted by the first heavy snow, and with the temperature falling each day, he declared that further efforts to revitalize Dale would have to wait for the warmth of spring.

Of course, that didn't stop him from seeking his own ways to fight off the madness of boredom. Much of his time was taken up with making plans with Percy on the rebuilding of Esgaroth, or visiting with those too sick or otherwise weakened to leave their homes in order to see that they were being well tended to. He would also venture to the Great Hall and watch the combat training from the sidelines. Bard told himself that he was there to observe the progress of the students, but often he found his attention straying to the instructor herself.

Tauriel had proven long ago that she was more than qualified to train his people to fight. Watching her demonstrate certain techniques was like watching poetry in motion; her movements were so fluid and graceful, and it was not hard to imagine her as deadly in battle. When he one day had the sudden thought that he hoped she was never put in harm's way again, he was disturbed by it, and quickly made his way to the door of the hall.

He stopped short when Halia moved in front of him, her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. Bard frowned. "Something I can do for you, Halia?"

"I know that look, sire," she told him.

Feeling his frown deepen, Bard moved past her. The older woman followed and fell into step beside him. "To what look do you refer?" he asked.

Halia chuckled. "No need to be coy with me, Lord Bard. I've seen that look many times on many faces. You know there's an easy solution to your problem."

Bard stifled a growl. "I was not aware I had a problem—other than being completely oblivious as to what it is you _think_ you saw."

"I'm talking about that look a person gets when they fancy someone who doesn't see how much you care for them," Halia explained.

His laugh sounded forced even to his own ears; he could only hope that Halia did not pick up on it. Bad enough that she had noticed something he had barely acknowledged himself.

Bard looked at her with a smile that was as false as his laugh. "My dear lady—whatever you think you have seen, I assure you that you are mistaken. I fancy no one."

Halia bumped his arm with her elbow. "I may be an old woman, sire, but I'm not blind. I've seen the way you've been looking at her these last few months."

"At who?" he asked gruffly.

"Tauriel."

Stopping mid-stride, Bard turned to her. "Halia, once again, I assure you that I fancy no one—certainly not Tauriel. The captain and I are merely friends."

"But you desire to be more than friends," she insisted. "It's all right you know. Nothin' wrong with you fancyin' an elf—not like you're the only one around here what's noticed her. Their king was a fine-looking fella too. Bit of an arse he was, to be sure, but he certainly weren't no trouble to look at. And Tauriel really is very lovely."

He felt his expression soften as her face came to his mind's eye. "Aye, that she is," he conceded. "But it matters not if I think her fair, Halia. It would not matter if your fanciful belief that I desire her were true. Tauriel is of no mind to return the affections of any man."

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Bard gave it an affectionate squeeze. "It is most amusing that you imagine me to fancy anyone at all. But my children are almost grown, and I am far too old for such youthful pursuits."

After giving her shoulder a soft pat, he turned and headed away from her, thankful she chose not to follow.

As the manor was not far from the Great Hall, Bard went there and retrieved his new bow. He'd not yet had the chance to practice with it, and feeling a need to clear his head, he headed down to the old barracks, a rectangular building that opened to a training yard in the middle. There he took a quiver full of arrows from the armory and went out into the yard, and standing at one end, he set an arrow and drew his string. When he let it fly, it sailed smoothly all the way to the other end—in fact, it would have gone much further had it not hit the building opposite.

Drawing another arrow, Bard aimed for the same brick that the first had struck. He did this time and again, with each steel-tipped arrow striking hard against the stone in the same spot. He notched each arrow as the one before it was clattering to the ground, and was nearly through the quiver of 30 when he heard someone step out of the building to his back.

"You're pulling the string backward," said Tauriel just as he was about to let the arrow fly.

The sound of her voice was so unexpected that he was startled, causing the arrow to sail wildly off course: instead of the brick in the middle of the wall, it broke the pane of a window. Turning slowly to look at her, he raised his eyebrows to see her smiling.

"Do you suggest I draw it forward, Captain?" he asked.

"I mean your drawing hand, my Lord," she said as she stepped closer. "The way you hold it is backward. I've only ever seen my kin draw bows palm-to-face. It is how I was taught to use a bow."

"But I am not your kin—just a simple man using the technique that my father taught to me, as his father taught it to him. Perhaps you should try it."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow, and he could see she was fighting a smile. In silence, she turned back into the building, returning a few moments later with a longbow. She then stepped up beside him and plucked one of the last two arrows out of his quiver, notching it to the string with her hand backward. Bard set his bow aside, leaning it against a nearby pillar, and moved to stand behind her.

"Lift your bow and pull the string," he said. When she complied, he moved to position her arms. Their bodies almost touched and he could feel her warmth.

"Now release," he whispered.

Tauriel let the arrow fly, and it hit the same brick that he had been shooting at, striking the same mark that his arrows had made. For a moment they stood together in silence, then she suddenly stepped aside and grabbed his bow, handing it to him.

"Now it's your turn to try another way," she said. Her voice sounded almost breathless, but Bard dismissed it as nonsense.

Taking his bow in hand, he set the last of the 30 arrows to the string with his palm inward and raised his arms to aim. He was shocked by a sudden jolt of energy flowing through him as she stepped up to him the way he had to her, positioning his arms needlessly. Again their bodies were close enough that he felt the heat of hers even through his winter coat. Her breath on his ear was warm as she repeated his words to him.

"Now release."

Though he did as instructed and hit his mark, that success was not what held his mind entranced. Her nearness did, and for the first time in many years Bard felt a stirring within that he nearly did not recognize: longing.

So stunned was he that for several moments, he found himself unable to command his body to move. Almost of their own accord, his lungs drew in the scent of her as he breathed, and even in the midst of winter, she smelled like the forest after a good rain. It was not an unpleasant smell—one he had always liked, in fact. Coming from a woodland elf, it was to be expected. Coming from Tauriel in particular…

…it was mesmerizing.

How long they stood that way, he did not know. Bard only knew that he was fighting wildly against the temptation to turn around and kiss her. After all, Tauriel's fighting knives were at her waist, and any move he made had the potential to result in his death.

So he remained still, as did she. He could feel her against his back as her breath came in shallow pants—a telling sign that she was just as affected by their closeness as he was. Bard could not help but wonder if thoughts similar to his own were going through her mind. He wondered what she would say next, what she would do…and knew that if she did not soon step away, he was going to lose the war that now raged within, and would throw all regard for his mortality out the window by taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless.

He felt the cold immediately the moment Tauriel suddenly stepped back. Disturbed by how empty he felt bereft of her warmth, he physically shuddered.

"My Lord," he heard her say; she was now several paces back from him. He also noted that her voice was strained.

"Yes Captain?" he returned, none too surprised to discern that his own voice was far from normal.

"I sought your whereabouts because Tilda wished me to remind you that it is time for the midday meal."

Though it was an effort to make himself look at her given his unexpected reaction, Bard did so, saying, "Thank you. I will retire to the manor shortly."

Tauriel nodded, though she did not meet his gaze. She then turned sharply on her heel and headed inside the open door of the armory out of which both of them had entered the yard. He listened to her moving around inside, likely to return the bow she'd chosen to its place, and then the sound of a slamming door marked her departure.

Only then was he able to take a full breath.


	7. Chapter 7

Yanking his coat as tightly around him as he could, Bard set about collecting his arrows.

What the _hell_ was that? Had his body truly just reacted to her as it had not responded to any woman since his late wife? If his libido were truly wakening after so many years of dormancy, then it had chosen a most inappropriate time to do so. The tail end of a winter from which it was still possible not all of them would survive was hardly the time to become attracted to anyone, let alone a she-elf who still mourned the man she had loved and lost. Kíli had been killed just shy of four moons past—even where she Dwarf or Man, Tauriel would hardly be of a mind to give her affections to another after so short a time.

No. It was better to put any thoughts of her as a romantic partner—unwelcome or not—out of his mind.

* * *

The desires of the heart do not always pay heed to the logic of the mind. Such was made painfully clear to Bard as the last weeks of winter marched slowly into spring. His unexpected fondness for Tauriel increased each day; he found himself looking forward to seeing her at the dining table during meals. He enjoyed more than he thought possible watching her as she continued working with his people to improve their combat skills. He greatly rejoiced in the smiles of his daughters as the elf-maiden passed on her knowledge of medicine. She'd also taken to teaching some of the people to speak Sindarin, as they would likely be trading with the elves again, and it was a task to pay attention to the lessons instead of simply staring at her lovely face.

His affection for her was both a blessing and a curse. While it was a relief of sorts to discover himself still capable of caring for a woman in that way, the decidedly one-sided nature of his attraction to Tauriel had led to many a sleepless night tossing and turning in his bed. Bard told himself that he needed to let it go, as by her behavior since that day in the training yard, she desired nothing more than to do her job.

But a seed once planted apparently wished only to grow…

* * *

Although the ground was still hard and a late frost still threatened, the first sign of green grass in the fields surrounding the city lifted the spirits of the people in Dale. Plans for the rebuilding of Esgaroth were finalized and it was decided that half the populace would return.

"There is wood a-plenty in the forest, and much stone has been retained for foundations," said Percy one day. "We will build Esgaroth to be stronger than ever it was."

Tauriel, who often attended but avoided direct participation in the meetings, spoke up then, asking, "Will you build your homes again upon the lake, or will you settle on the shore this time?"

"I think a little of both," Percy replied. "Our homes and halls might well fare better on the land, but we are most of us fishermen at heart, Captain. There will be fisheries for our catch and docks for our boats on the water. I dream of the new Esgaroth as a splendorous city, where peoples from all over Middle-earth may come to trade their wares."

"It is a noble dream, my Lord Percy," Tauriel said with a smile. "Little doubt rests in my mind that you will see it realized."

"Aye, and with no small thanks to you, my Lady, we shall be well prepared for its safe-keeping. Once Esgaroth is risen from the ashes, I desire we will have a dedicated army to protect us."

"I desire the same for Dale, my friend," Bard put in. "To that end, I propose a joint venture between our cities."

"What is your proposal, sire?"

Bard looked around at the men and women with him; they met in the Great Hall after breakfast for these meetings, giving Tauriel's students the morning off. "As a whole, we are near five hundred. But with the rebirth of Esgaroth on the horizon, our number will be halved on both sides, and our defenses will be weakened."

"What are you saying, Bard?" Tauriel asked.

He looked to her and offered a smile. "I had the idea that we go on an expedition, journeying to other lands such as Rohan and Gondor, to purchase tools and other provisions which would help us build our lives anew. I will also query amongst those we visit to see if there are any who might be amenable to relocating, thereby growing our numbers."

The elf nodded. "It is a good plan, my Lord," she said. "I daresay also that goods may also be purchased from the Woodland Realm—you fared well in trade with my kin in years past, did you not?"

Bard nodded. "Aye. That we did—and we'll do much better with all the Sindarin you have taught us."

"If I may say so, sire," broke in Halia, "Elves do make some fine cloth. I'd not mind a few bolts of it that I might make some gowns for the girls."

Smiling warmly at her, he replied, "I would have you use some of those silks to make gowns for yourself as well, Halia."

And so it was that as the people in Dale prepared for the departure of those rebuilding Esgaroth, a plan was hashed out for the expedition. They would wait two weeks after Percy's group had gone before setting out, giving their fellows time enough to build some strong homes at the new location. Some of those would ride north and join Bard and those going with him as he traveled to the first stop on the tour: Mirkwood. After a few days there, they would take a path through to the other side of the Woodland Realm and travel south. They would stop in Lórien and trade with the elves there if they were agreeable, then their path would take them to Edoras in Rohan and then Minas Tirith in Gondor. In Osgiliath they would cross the great river Anduin once more and head back north through Dagorlad, and then turn east toward the Sea of Rhun, where there were Men in the city of Dorwinion.

After Dorwinion, Bard said, they would trek northwest and head for home.

"I hope to complete this undertaking and return to Dale by midsummer," he said. "It means we'll not be able to stay too long in any one place and we'll have to travel from dawn 'til dusk in between."

"Most of the way west and south, my Lord," Percy began as he pointed at a map they were using to plan the trip, "there won't be much need to carry water, as the Forest River runs through Mirkwood going west and then the company will follow the Anduin going south. But heading northeast to Dorwinion through the Brown Lands, it may be wise to haul barrels of water on a wagon or two."

"No doubt a wise precaution, Percy. Thank you for that," Bard said.

Soon after the meeting ended, and all the elders left to spend the morning in preparation for what they had jokingly dubbed "the exodus." Bard walked to the door with Percy, who stopped suddenly and turned to him.

"I don't rightly know if you've been thinking on it, my Lord, but I wish you to know something," the older man said.

Bard regarded him with curiosity. "And what is that, Percy?"

"Those of us what are going back, bringing Esgaroth to life again… Well, I might be soon to take on the title of Lord of Esgaroth, but you will still be our King, sire."

For a moment he was too stunned to speak, and then Bard drew a breath, replying, "Percy, that is not necessary—"

Percy shook his head. "Oh, but it is, Bard. If you hadn't shot that black arrow into the dragon, we might all of us be dead now," he said. "And though sadly many lives of our brothers and sisters were lost fightin' for it, it was you who got the dwarves to part with what of the treasure of Smaug was our due. Without it, we'd never be able to start over—we'd certainly never be able to rebuild Esgaroth or Dale."

Nodding affirmatively, Percy stepped back. "As I said, sire, you will still be our King. Dale will be more than a city—it shall be a kingdom, and Esgaroth a part of it."

Feeling overwhelmed by the declaration, Bard could do nothing but draw the older man into an embrace. He had no words for how very moved he was, nor how humbled he felt, that Percy and the others thought of him that way. All he'd ever wanted in life was to be a good son, a good husband, a good father, and a good neighbor. To do what was right and not what was easy. Although he had dreamed of restoring Dale in his youth, never had he thought it would be possible—certainly not in his lifetime. He had never really thought himself a leader, even though it always seemed to fall on him to take charge when things became difficult or dangerous.

And not once had he ever thought of himself as a king, but a king it seemed he would one day be.

After Percy had at last departed, Bard sighed and turned back into the Great Hall. He was surprised to see Tauriel still there; she sat at the table, seemingly studying the map they'd been using.

"The crops to be sown before your departure will be much ripened by your return," she said.

Bard frowned. "Do you mean not to journey with us?" he asked as he moved toward her.

Tauriel looked up. "My Lord, is my purpose for remaining in Dale not fulfilled?"

"Indeed it is," he answered. "You have taught my people a great many skills, and when one day we have our armies to defend us, what they have learned will be passed on."

She stood as he reached her, and it bothered him that she stepped back as though she did not want to be too close. "Then it would seem my contract of employment has reached its end. What reason have I to journey with you?"

On an impulse borne of months of unrequited desire, Bard reached out a hand to cup her cheek, and allowed the depth of his feelings fill his eyes as he told her, "Because you want to.

"Moreover, because _I_ want you to."

* * *

He stood at the mountain gate and watched as the column of men, women, and children steadily marched to the south. Tauriel was among them, in large part because she would provide added security should the group fall under attack. Bard personally suspected it was because she was running away.

And he was almost certain he would not be seeing her again.

 _Perhaps it's for the best_ , he mused as he raised his hand in acknowledgement of Dalarean and Eltain, a couple who had turned around to wave. He then sighed and turned back to re-enter the city he now called home. Tauriel had grown ever more distant after he had asked her to go with him on the journey. Whether it was because he had frightened her with the revelation of his interest in her as a woman or because she had always planned one day to leave them, he could not say. In either case, if she did not return in a fortnight with those from Esgaroth who had agreed to go along on the southern expedition, his girls would surely miss her presence in their lives.

Frankly, so would he.


	8. Chapter 8

"What do you think, Captain?"

Tauriel turned to Percy and offered him a smile. "I think, Master Percy, that it is going very well," she said. "The people of Esgaroth have done themselves proud."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed we have, Madame Elf. I must say that I am most excited by our progress—only a fortnight has passed since we left Dale, and already we have a dozen homes built. We're set to begin laying the foundation for the town hall tomorrow, and if the weather continues to be fair, we may even get the framing done before dusk. I say, if we keep to this pace, we may get the docks started in another week."

"Will you be here for that?" Tauriel queried. "Are you not going on Bard's expedition?"

Percy shook his head. "Nay. Though I admit I desire to join the party, we cannot both of us leave our cities. I think it prudent one of us who are Lord of the two cities should remain to look after the people. The logical choice is my good self, what with Bard being the important man he is now."

The elder gentleman turned to her more fully. "And what about you, Captain? In Dale you resided in the Lord's manor, and you spent much time in the company of Bard and his family. Yet these last two weeks, you have spoken of him very little."

Tauriel felt heat rising up her neck and hoped fervently that she wasn't blushing. It had been a most difficult winter for her, having to deal with crippling emotional pain in the wake of Kíli's death as well as living outside the woodlands of her home for the very first time. Bard's steady friendship and support of her had been a light in the darkness, a balm on her tortured soul.

They had grown close to one another over the winter, but that day in the training yard had changed the dynamic of their relationship. Although they had gone from strangers to friends fairly quickly and she was okay with that, knowing that his feelings for her had changed had made her feel decidedly _un_ comfortable.

Or more to the point, it was the change in _her_ feelings that had made it difficult to be around him. Standing close enough to hold him in her arms had been a mistake, because it was the moment she had stopped seeing him as her employer…

…and started seeing him as a man.

Bard had made keeping a distance ever more difficult when he had touched her face and told her he wanted her to stay. She had seen that his feelings for her were deep by the way he had looked at her, by the tone of his voice when he spoke to her. A completely unexpected surge of similar feelings within herself—and an almost impossible to resist desire to just say yes—had shaken Tauriel to her core.

So she had withdrawn even further after that. She made sure that she only saw Bard at meals or during the training classes, which had moved to the training yard at the soldiers' barracks with the warmer weather. She only spoke to him when directly spoken to or if there was a need to speak first, and she spent all of her free time in her room. If she felt restless, she would venture outside the city and wander around the hills at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Once, she had even ventured back up to the Ravenhill outlook, the place where not long ago she had begged Thranduil to take away her pain.

He hadn't because he couldn't, and she'd been forced to live with it. That is, until the day she had started thinking more about Bard and less about Kíli.

The purpose of her wanderings had been to clear her head, but all she had done was think. She knew that Elves married only once in their lifetime, and though she had known him but a few weeks, she had grown to love Kíli—didn't that mean she was now to spend the rest of her days alone? No, they had not consummated their love; she'd not even had the opportunity to tell him how she felt about him, let alone lay with him. Still, in her mind, her heart had belonged to the dwarf, and he had died just shy of half a year past.

How was it possible she was even thinking of another man in that way?

Feeling Percy's eyes on her, Tauriel cleared her throat and said, "We have been very busy these two weeks, my Lord Percy. All are up at dawn and we work until dusk, stopping only for meals. There has not been much time for talk."

"Aye, I suppose that's true," her companion said. "But we've also got a lot done, and we've enough men here to keep us safe enough, I think. I know that's why you came along, but you needn't be concerned about us. And I think I can safely say that Bard wants you with him."

The heat rose again. Tauriel had no doubt that Bard wanted her to go on the expedition, and there was a part of her that wished to join the quest for the simple reason that she would get to see new places and meet new people—there had even been talk of stopping in Lórien, another Elven kingdom to which she had never been. In fact, until the day she and Legolas had followed the dwarves to Lake-town, she'd never set foot outside of Mirkwood. There was a curiosity in her for seeing a larger world that begged to be satisfied.

Knowing that she would once again be in close quarters with Bard is what held her back—because there was another part of her that wanted to go because she knew he would be there. Because she _wanted_ to be with him, to ride side-by-side on horseback or walk close to him, to talk and to laugh and to delight in simply being in his presence.

And that knowledge both frightened and confused Tauriel more than she could say.

* * *

"Come now, let's not dawdle!" Bard called out. "Mirkwood is not too far a walk, but it is still a fair distance—I'd like us to reach the borders by the afternoon."

His command seemed to do the trick, and the people packing up carts and horses got busier. _Good_ , he thought. The sun was already cresting over the mountain, and the party joining them from Esgaroth would soon be arriving. An early breakfast had been eaten by all, and he had found himself yet again staring at the place where Tauriel usually sat… wishing he was not looking upon an empty chair.

Bard shook himself mentally. He was being foolish. Tauriel had made it plain by her actions that she had no wish for such an acquaintance with him. He needed to accept that.

Shaking his head again, he climbed up on Huron—the white stallion he had been gifted by Thranduil—and looked back at the wagon carrying his children. Bain would guide the horse, Sigrid and Tilda would ride along beside him. They had provisions in the back of the cart, alongside which would walk two men with bows and swords.

Because nestled in with his family's provisions was a large chest of gold and silver. He hoped it would be enough to pay for all his people would be purchasing along the way, and Bard knew also that there was something else in there that would make Thranduil a very happy elf indeed.

With another look around, seeing that everyone was finally ready to begin, he called out "Let's go!" and gave his horse a light kick to get him moving. The guards at the gate nodded as he passed; Bard nodded in return. Venturing out onto the bridge, he urged Huron to a canter so that he could turn at the end and watch as the people filed past. As they walked by him, he looked over their heads and noted that there was a group coming up from the south—some of Percy's people from Esgaroth. His heart fluttered in his chest as he wondered if Tauriel was among them. Had she decided to remain with his people, or had she already gone home?

 _Stop being an old fool, Bard_ , he chastised himself, and forcefully turned his attention to those walking out of the city.

As the last person walked past him, Bard's attention was drawn toward the mountain to his right.

"Hail, Bard!"

It was Dain; he and three other dwarves—the latter conspicuously looking as though they were packed and ready to travel—were heading for him.

"Hail Dain!" he called out, turning his horse toward the four. "What brings you forth from your mountain halls this fine day?"

"A fortnight ago, a long line of yer kin went south, and now you're heading out of the city yourself. I thought you were planning to stay on in Dale?" the Dwarf-king said.

"I am, my Lord Dain," Bard replied casually. "However, as Dale has been abandoned for far too many years, we are in great need of provisions which the city cannot yet provide. In order for us to make our home fair once more, we must seek to garner trade relationships with the people of other lands. Besides that, both Dale and Esgaroth can each hardly be called cities when our numbers are so few, so another purpose of this journey is that we hope to find some who would relocate, that we may return with a greater number in our host than when we departed."

"Then allow me to propose this to you, my fellow king: If you will grant acceptance of some of my men to join your quest—" He waved a hand to indicate the three dwarves with whom Bard was already familiar. "—for we, too, will have need of trade to make Erebor great again—then I shall pledge others to labor in your absence in the rebuilding of your cities."

Though the request to join them was not unexpected, Dain's offer to have dwarves work on the rebuilding of the cities surprised him. "Will you not have need of these men to revitalize Erebor?"

"I can call for aid in this endeavor from the Iron Hills, and may even send word to the Blue Mountains for assistance from our distant kin. Have no fear, my good man—there will be no shortage of able-bodied men to labor whilst the journey is undertaken," Dain replied.

How could he not accept such an enormously generous offer? Bard knew that he could not, as taking so many on the trip would certainly have slowed the reconstruction efforts in Dale and Esgaroth. There was also the added bonus of having many more skilled fighters on hand to repel an attack should any of the forces of darkness seek to take advantage of their absence.

"You make a sound argument, Lord Dain. These three are most welcome to join our company. But I warn you, we will first be visiting the elves in Mirkwood. I know that none of your kin are fond of their kind."

Of the three, only Bofur seemed about to argue. Ori just looked nervous. Balin, on the other hand, had a little smile on his face.

"It is to be expected that you would continue trade with the elves," the old Dwarf said. "And as we are so few—not to mention joining the quest at the last minute—we are hardly in a position to dictate where we go."

"True enough," Bard said with a smile. He stifled a sigh, though, as he knew that some might be upset at the inclusion of their neighbors in the expedition. But he felt he could hardly have denied Dain when he and his kin had already done so much for Dale, having received only gratitude thus far in return. He knew that some concessions, like allowing some of the Dwarves to join the quest, would have to be made in order to remain on friendly terms with them. He was willing to do whatever was necessary to maintain the peace, for he knew that should Dale or Esgaroth come under attack from orcs or Easterlings, they would have need of Dain's followers in battle to defend themselves.

"Come, join us then," he said to the three, gesturing toward the group that had paused to await his joining them. As Bard looked up, he noted that the party from Esgaroth was starting across the bridge, and his pulse quickened once more.

Tauriel was with them.


	9. Chapter 9

Tauriel ignored the quickening of her pulse at the sight of Bard at the end of the bridge.

She had decided to join the expedition to satisfy her curiosity about other lands, and for no other reason. At least, that is what she told herself—her body's reaction to the mere sight of the man said otherwise.

Shaking herself mentally, the elf plastered on a benign smile. She and Bard were friends, so it was only natural she was pleased to see him again. It had been two weeks, after all. But oh, it seemed as though an age had passed, for she could not take her eyes from his face. He looked shocked at first, as though he had not expected her to return, and then he smiled widely. That he was clearly pleased to see her made her heart flutter beneath her breast, and her own smile grew.

"Hail Bard!" Percy called from beside her.

Bard raised his arm in acknowledgment. "Hail Percy!"

As they continued forward, Tauriel noted the presence of four dwarves, three of whom appeared to be carrying traveling packs. She quashed her annoyance—Bard had a right to invite them along. They were his neighbors, after all, and maintaining a peaceful relationship was vital. Besides that, of the three she knew two of them fairly well. The white-haired Balin had been most kind to her when she'd carried Kíli down from Ravenhill, and had stood at her side during the burial. The one who wore the funny hat, Bofur, she remembered from Lake-town. The third she remembered only vaguely as a member of the company that had been taken captive in Mirkwood. The fourth dwarf, no one could miss—Dain, she admitted, had a very commanding presence.

As she and Percy stopped alongside Bard and the dwarves, the rest of their group, a party of just fifteen, continued past to join the others. Tauriel watched for just a moment as they reunited with friends from the Dale group, then turned her attention to the men around her as Percy was saying, "…was explaining to the good captain here, I think it prudent one of us remain behind to look after the people who are staying home."

Bard nodded. "A wise consideration, my friend. I am confident you will keep a watchful eye on our people."

Percy beamed under the praise. "If I may, sire, I've granted Gudmund authority to speak on behalf of Esgaroth in matters what affect the entire town."

Bard nodded. "Gudmund is a bright young man. He will make a fine deputy mayor for you, and I will make certain to consult with him throughout our journey. I've given Hilda command of Dale while I'm away, so be sure to speak with her if need be."

"Speaking of the journey, my Lord," Tauriel said, speaking up for the first time. "Am I correct in assuming that these gentlemen from Erebor are to join us?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Dain demanded.

Tauriel looked at him. "None at all, Master Dwarf. I merely sought to confirm or deny a thought—as Bard is in command of this company, he may well invite along whomever he chooses. I think it a prudent move on your part, in fact: In order to restore Erebor to its former glory, you will also have need of peaceful relations with other lands. And if memory serves, Master Bofur, did you not say in Lake-town that you were once a toymaker of some repute?"

Bofur hung his head and toed the dirt, though Tauriel could see he was smiling. "I dunno about that," he said. "Bifur and I mostly dabbled."

"Still, you know how to make toys," she pressed. "There are children in Dale and Esgaroth who now have none as a result of the dragon's attack. Traveling to other lands is sure to give you many ideas for what could be a profitable business, should you choose to pursue it."

Bard turned a smile her way before he glanced at the dwarves and said, "It's settled then! Come, it is time we departed."

As they were moving away, Dain said to the three at his side. "I may dislike that faithless woodland sprite Thranduil as much as the next dwarf, but the fact that he's less than a day's ride from our door means we've got to do our part to keep the peace. So behave!"

"My Lord, I promise you, I will keep these two nuggets well in line," Balin said, gesturing to Bofur and Ori. Both of them protested while Dain and Balin laughed, and then the three moved to join the traveling Men.

The party—totaling 40 now—began moving along at an easy but steady pace. Those who had gone to Esgaroth filled their friends in on how the resurrection of the city was going; the group from Dale did likewise. Bard and Tauriel, two of only six riding on horseback (other horses being used to pull wagons or carry supplies), traveled at the front, and for several minutes the time was passed in silence.

"I am most pleased to see you again, Captain," Bard said, breaking the tense quiet. "For a time I was not sure you would return."

"For a time _I_ was not sure I would return," she admitted. "And in truth, I do not know how long I shall remain—on our return north I may at last retire to the woodlands of my home."

For a moment Bard said nothing, though Tauriel could feel his eyes on her. She could not return his gaze, however, as she was certain his countenance would be full of disappointment. She hated to be the cause of it, but until she could gain control and understanding of her tumultuous emotions she had to maintain a certain degree of distance.

"I can understand the draw of home," he said after a time. "Though certainly I would not begrudge you returning to Mirkwood, I pray you would consider that Thranduil's halls are not the only home open to you… for in mine you shall always be welcome."

Looking over at him, Tauriel saw sincerity in his features. In his eyes she also saw deeper feeling—not only did he wish her to stay with him because they were friends, but because he wanted her. She knew he would pursue a courtship if only she would indicate she were receptive to such attentions. Bard himself was certainly an attractive man, and she was aware that there were young women in Dale and Esgaroth who would more than welcome his attentions, especially now that he would one day be King—no doubt they coveted the title of Queen.

Bard had no time for such frivolities. If he pursued a woman, it would be because he had a genuine desire for her, and he was the kind of man who would accept no woman's affections were they not for him as a person instead of his position.

A position he may not have wanted in the first place, but nevertheless performed with the most admirable dedication to his people. Yes, she mused, he would make for a very fine king indeed.

"I… Thank you, Bard," Tauriel replied at last. "It is most kind of you to offer your home to me when I have been so ungracious a guest."

Bard glanced over his shoulder briefly, whether to assure himself that no one was listening in on their conversation or to make sure the line of people was still together and moving she could not say. But when he returned his gaze to her, his expression had settled into a frown. "Tauriel, whatever do you mean?" he asked. "At no point have I ever thought you ungracious."

Tauriel felt her breath hitch in her chest. She hadn't meant for this topic to come up, but perhaps it was best she cleared the air with him now. "Bard, I know that your feelings for me have changed—"

"They have grown."

She looked at him. "I know that. And I appreciate that you have waited as long as you did in revealing your desire out of respect for my loss. I just do not want for you to desire me in vain. I can give you no promise that my affections will change."

Bard swallowed and turned his eyes forward. "I see," he said softly.

"Please do not misunderstand me," she went on. "I am most grateful for all the kindness you have shown me. For the friendship you have so freely offered. And I am truly flattered that you would think of me as one worthy of your affections."

A sigh escaped her, and for a moment she closed her eyes in order to rein in her thoughts. "The thing is, I have long lived with the belief that Elves love only once in their lifetime. As I have loved someone, I do not think it even possible that I could love again, even if I wanted to."

She looked at him again, so that he would know her feelings on the matter were genuine. "And you, my Lord Bard, deserve so much to be loved."

Bard smiled briefly. "My Lady Tauriel, there was once a time I thought I could never love another… And then suddenly you were there. Certainly when first we met I thought only of showing my gratitude for your service to my children. But as I have come to know you, I have come to see that I was merely blind to the possibility of love."

He reached across the space between them and laid his hand on her arm. "I am not saying you are blind, only that… perhaps you should consider the possibility that you _can_ love again. Don't discount it altogether when there are countless years ahead of you to live through, for it would be an immeasurable shame that one such as yourself should be shown but a glimpse of love, and then made to spend all the days of the world alone."

Tauriel had to admit that his words were profound and thought-provoking. But could she really do it? Could she really love again? And even if she could…

…would she really want to, when along with loving someone came the possibility of losing them?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Many thanks to my friend Anna for letting me borrow her OC Alaren.**

* * *

Bard and Tauriel said no more to each other of their feelings.

The conversation, after a period of thoughtful silence, turned to everyday matters—such as the rebuilding efforts in both cities. How the people had fared through the winter and how what few seeds they had for crops had indeed been planted before their departure (seeds for food were high on his list of things to acquire on the journey). Bard told her of a small skirmish the week before with a pack of wargs that the men of Dale and a few of the dwarves had routed in minutes. Dain had taken the carcasses inside the mountain—though to what purpose, Bard said, he was not sure he wanted to know.

"Have you feasted with the dwarves since the exodus?" Tauriel asked.

"Nay, we have not. I daresay I know your thoughts—and I do not think I would care to dine on warg meat," he said with a laugh. "The dwarves are welcome to it."

"Were there riders on the wargs?" she asked.

Bard shook his head again. "These were wild and untamed—and rather thin, come to think of it. I surmise they did not fare so well as we through the winter, and ventured into the valley looking for food. Not to mention the sun was high and the day cloudless when it happened, which as you know are not orc- or goblin-friendly conditions."

Tauriel nodded her agreement. "I say, it is quite good fortune that we had only winter's chill and dwindling food supplies to fight with through the winter when there were so many dark days, not to mention the nights."

"But we made it, and with only two deaths among those of us who survived the battle," Bard added. "As sick and injured as some were, that is quite good fortune indeed."

Every so often, one or the other of them would ride along the column to check on the people, seeing to their welfare and rounding up stragglers. Bard was only a little surprised that Balin, Bofur, and Ori were keeping up with the pace—though he knew he should not be, given how far they had traveled to reach the Lonely Mountain.

As they were making good time, it was not long before the dark trees of Mirkwood were before them. Bard was at the rear of the column when he called for a halt, then spurred Huron to the front of the line.

"Why do I suddenly get the feeling we are being watched?" he asked Tauriel.

A smirk lifted the corners of her lips. "My Lord, it is likely that we were being watched from the moment we set out from Dale."

He looked at her. "The elves are spying on us?"

"I would not call it 'spying'," she countered. "I am sure that Thranduil is merely curious as to our intent. Scouts have been watching the mountain and Dale through the winter, no doubt."

Bard scoffed. "And you would not have me call it spying," he countered. "So… If your king is curious about what we plan to do, then why does he—or his scouts—merely watch? Why do they not come out and meet us?"

"I daresay they are waiting for you to make the first move," she replied.

Bard glanced at her briefly, then back toward the woods ahead of him. "Very well, then. What sort of king shall I make if I hesitate at the edge of a wood? I have no reason to be unsure, as our intentions are noble and just. Come, everyone! Let us keep moving along."

"At least this time we're going _up_ the river on foot, and not riding down it in a wine barrel," Ori said from close behind.

Bard merely shook his head and urged Huron forward once more.

"Stay close to one another," Tauriel called out. "The trees may be thinner on the edge, but the further we go the closer they get, and the harder it will be to follow the path."

Bard heard the dwarves muttering amongst themselves about paths and Elvish magic getting them lost, as well as something about an enchanted river. He'd never had a problem in Thranduil's realm, but then it had been many years since had ventured all the way through the Great Forest.

The further in they traveled, the wood did indeed grow denser. The light also faded to a semi-darkness that reminded Bard of twilight. Still they pressed on, and all the while he felt numerous pairs of eyes on them but saw no one.

"Why, do you suppose, the scouts do not approach?" he asked Tauriel.

She looked around. "Perhaps they are under orders not to interfere unless given a reason to do so. It could also be that they are waiting for us to reach a certain point before they surround us with bows drawn."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a single figure dropped down out of the trees before them, landing in a crouch in the middle of the path. Huron and Fera, Tauriel's horse, whinnied loudly in surprise and stamped their feet. Bard was somewhat annoyed—though not entirely surprised—by the suddenness of the elf's appearance. Tauriel seemed quite calm.

" _Gi suilon_ , Alaren," she said.

The brown-haired figure before them rose, and Bard saw that it was a woman. She smiled and nodded her head once. " _Mae g'ovannen_ , Tauriel. _Gi nathlam hí_."

Tauriel returned the nod. " _Hennaid_ ," she replied. Although he had understood the Sindarin they spoke, thanks to Tauriel's lessons, Bard was relieved when his companion's next words were in the Common tongue.

"Are you here to escort us or arrest us?" she asked.

Alaren laughed. "Escort. You know that guests of the Woodland Realm are never arrested unless they prove problematic… Isn't that correct, Master Dwarves?"

Her gaze, Bard saw, had fallen on the three Dwarves—Bofur in particular. He, in turn, offered her a look that clearly said "Who? Me?" Alaren's answering smirk was also clear: she wasn't fooled for a second.

"Where are the others?" Tauriel was asking. "Surely His Majesty did not send only a single guard to guide us."

Alaren's grin widened. "They're around."

In the next moment, Elves began appearing one by one all around them. Bard counted at least thirty, and the bows and blades in their hands—though not drawn as if prepared to fight—nevertheless had what he assumed was the desired affect: his people were nervous. They murmured amongst themselves and he saw that his men had their hands on their swords.

"Stay calm, everyone," he said, keeping his voice light. "Our guide has said we are guests in this realm, therefore there is no need to fear."

He turned then to Alaren and said, "As you are here to guide us where we may go, then perhaps we should be on our way."

The elf looked to him and bowed her head. "As you wish, _hîr nín_."

She then turned smartly on her heel and started forward. The other Elven guards fell into line on either side of the column in silence. Bard looked to Tauriel, who nodded, and they directed their mounts to follow. With the darkness over their heads, he could not say for sure how much time passed as they walked further into the woods, though surely it was long past midday when at last they reached the cavern-like fortress where Mirkwood's king dwelled.

Alaren led them through a large, ornately carved gate and into a surprisingly well-lit glen. Bard quickly turned his horse around and watched as his people filed in, many of them looking around in wonder.

"It's so beautiful!"

"This is pretty amazing."

"How do they get it so bright in here when it's so dark outside?"

The last was spoken by Tilda, to whom Tauriel winked and said, "It's magic."

"You may set up your camp here," Alaren said as she turned and faced the group. "Although you are welcome guests of His Majesty King Thranduil, I advise you not to wander. If you wish to venture beyond the borders of this glen, you will require an escort."

She then looked directly at Bard. "Your presence, sir, is requested."

Bard nodded, then looked at Tauriel. "Will you come with me?"

Tauriel glanced at Alaren, who said nothing. She then looked back to Bard. "I will join you, my Lord."

Nodding, Bard dismounted from Huron and walked over to the wagon on which his children sat. He made quick work of opening the trunk of coin and retrieving the gift he had brought for the Elven king, one that he hoped would inspire a great deal of generosity on the part of their host. After closing the trunk once more, Bard walked to the seat and offered his girls a smile. To his son he said, "Bain, look after your sisters. I don't imagine we shall be long."

"Yes, Da. I'll take care of them," Bain replied.

"There's a good lad," Bard said. Then he called out to Gudmund, Percy's chosen representative from Esgaroth, and bid him to join them. Alaren gave the trio a glance and then turned and walked away. They followed in silence as she and two other guards led them even further into the caverns. Bard had to admit that it was magnificent work to have hewn the rock of the hill into rooms boasting ornate carvings and pillars. Many lanterns lit the way as there were no windows, and considering how brightly lit their path was, he had no doubt that Tauriel's claim of magic was true.

Their guide led them to a platform on which sat a chair that could not be mistaken for anything other than Thranduil's throne. Having a set of stairs all its own, it rose high above the landing and the whole of it appeared to have been carved from a single massive tree. The seatback was an intricate panel depicting trees whose branches intertwined, and above that was an enormous set of palmate antlers. _Thranduil must have a thing for elk_ , Bard mused, as he recalled that Mirkwood's king preferred that beast as a mount over a horse.

He wondered how long Thranduil would make them wait—thankfully, it was not but a few minutes before the tall, regal figure came up the steps behind them.

" _Le suilon_ , Bard. And you, Tauriel," Thranduil said as he passed. When he turned to face them, he added " _Mae l'ovannen_ ," and bowed his head.

Bard nodded. " _Le suilon_ , Thranduil," he said, returning the formal greeting.

Tauriel also nodded, saying, " _Le suilon_ , _h_ _î_ _r n_ _í_ _n_ Thranduil."

Thranduil then turned his gaze to the third visitor. "And who might this be?" he asked.

"I am Gudmund, son of Sevelod, Deputy Mayor of Esgaroth, sir," Gudmund answered nervously.

The Elf-king said nothing for a moment, and then, "Oh yes. My people did tell me of your little project to rebuild the city-upon-the-lake. I commend you for such a grand undertaking."

He looked once more to Bard. "So, _mellon_ _n_ _í_ _n_ … what brings you and so many of your kin to my realm?"

"We are making a pilgrimage to other lands seeking provisions, trade relationships, and hopefully even more people for our cities," Bard replied.

Thranduil looked between the three of them. "My word, now _that_ is a grand undertaking. Even more ambitious, I think, than simply rebuilding a city or two. Tell me, Bard—am I correct in assuming you would like to resume trade with my people?"

"Indeed I would," Bard replied. "For many years a peaceful relationship in trade was had between Lake-town and the Woodland Realm, and I desire to see it renewed as it was of great benefit on both sides. Also, my Lord Thranduil, in exchange for your hospitality over the next day or two, and all you have already done for my kin, I offer you this gift."

He opened the small burlap sack he had taken from the trunk and held it up so that Thranduil could look inside. Bard could not help a satisfied grin spreading across his face as the other man stared into the open bag, mesmerized by what he saw.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Gi suilon_ \- I greet you (familiar)

 _Mae g'ovannen_ – You are well met (familiar)

 _Gi nathlam hí_ – We welcome you here (familiar)

 _Hennaid_ – Thanks

 _hír nîn_ – my lord

 _Le suilon_ – I greet you (formal)

 _Mae l'ovannen_ – You are well met (formal)

 _mellon_ _n_ _í_ _n_ – my friend


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh my…"

Thranduil's eyes grew wide as he gazed into the bag. He reached a hand in slowly, and the gem he pulled out was easily the size of an acorn. The Elf-king stared at it almost reverently, and Bard was not remiss to the audible gasp of the other elves and even Gudmund.

"How did you come by such exquisite emeralds?" Thranduil asked. "Surely the dwarves did not simply part with them out of the goodness of their hearts?"

"These stones are an heirloom of my house," Bard answered. "My ancestor Girion—the last Lord of Dale—had commissioned a grand necklace containing five hundred of these magnificent gems. I had once thought it a fanciful story passed down through my family, until I happened across it when I went into Erebor to collect my people's share of the hoard. Some of the fittings had come undone, though instead of simply having them reset, I thought of a better use for them."

Thranduil's gaze as he tore it from the emerald he held was incredulous. "You would part with five hundred emeralds of inestimable value, when they are a true heirloom of the House of Girion? Why?"

Bard grinned and hefted the bag in his hand. "I would part with three hundred emeralds," he countered. "After all, they _are_ a part of the legacy of my ancestor and therefore do retain some small sentimental value for me. Beyond that, I desired my son to have a part of that legacy, and my daughters also. My share I will likely spend over the next few years, their worth going toward the rebuilding of Dale."

"Such beauty will certainly fare well for you," Thranduil replied. He dropped the emerald into the bag, which Bard then tied closed again and handed to him.

"It is late, my Lord—I think—and I must see that my company are settled. If I may take my leave, on the morrow we can discuss trade between our nations, and perhaps my kin may also be permitted to purchase goods from your craftsmen. My housemaid in particular is interested in acquiring some of your fine cloth."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bard noted Tauriel smiling, and he knew she remembered that meeting when the expedition had first been discussed. He found himself oddly pleased that she recalled it.

Thranduil nodded his head once. "Certainly, Lord Bard. However, tell your people not to concern themselves with preparing a meal this evening, for tonight we shall break bread together and feast in friendship."

Bard returned the nod. "That is most kind of you. My people will be greatly inspired by your generosity."

He turned then and the guard Tauriel had addressed as Alaren started back down the platform.

"Tauriel, stay. I desire to speak with you," Thranduil said.

Bard turned back to find Tauriel gazing at him. He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and then turned to follow his guide back to the glen. It was clear that whatever the Elf-king wanted to say to her, he wished to say in private.

* * *

Tauriel watched Bard depart, then turned slowly toward the king. She had not seen him for several moons, and was wary of what he wished to say even though by virtue of her standing freely in his presence, he had indeed lifted the decree of banishment.

Thranduil paced away toward the steps to the throne, hefting the bag of emeralds and looking for all the world like he still could not believe Bard had given them to him. Or perhaps he was simply trying to think of precisely what to say to her.

Just what did one say to a person with whom they had not parted on the best of terms?

At last he stopped pacing and turned to her. " _Gen ú-gennin anann_ _, iell_ _nîn_ ," he said.

"Yes, it has been a long time," she replied in the common tongue. "But pray, why did you call me 'my daughter'? You also said that to me before you left the valley near five moons ago."

"Tauriel, did I not take you in as a child of only thirty-five years and rear you alongside my son?" Thranduil countered.

Tauriel scoffed. "Oh, you took me into your halls, _hîr n_ _í_ _n_. But I was not raised alongside Legolas as though a _thêl_ to him. In fact, I was treated as no better than a servant by you—only your son showed me true kindness."

"I sheltered you for over six hundred years!" he snapped. "After your parents died, it was _I_ who saw to it that you were fed, that you had clothes on your back. And what gratitude did I receive in return for my caring? For making you a Captain of the Guard? Willful disobedience, insolence, and a predilection for breaking the rules that plagues you even to this day!"

An anger buried just beneath the surface for most of her life suddenly flared white-hot, and Tauriel stepped forcefully into his personal space, so close that they were hardly a hand-width apart.

"What bothers you more, Thranduil—that you could not cow the lowly Silvan female into complete submission? Or the fact that deep down you desired to be more like her, free to do whatever you wished when you wished to do it?"

Turning sharply away, she started down the steps at the end of the throne platform. "I do not know why you bothered to lift the decree of banishment if I have been such a burden to you these many years," she said as she walked. "It is clear that whatever sentiment you may once have had for me is long since dissolved."

"Tauriel."

Tauriel spun back angrily as she reached the lower landing. "Do not concern yourself with your distaste of me any longer, _my Lord_. I will never again darken your halls once the company leaves."

Turning her back to him, she had taken but two steps toward the bridge that would lead her away when suddenly a hand grabbed her arm. A reflex ingrained in her through centuries of training had her reaching for her knives to defend herself.

" _Daro_!" Thranduil said sharply. " _Iesten_."

Another instinct, one cultivated by the man who now held her by both arms, had her freezing with her blades halfway drawn. Even as angry as she had suddenly become, Tauriel could not bring herself to ignore her king's command to stop…especially when he had followed it with 'please'.

Drawing a deep breath through her nose, she released it slowly through pursed lips and nodded; Thranduil released her and she took a step back.

" _Naethen_ ," he said softly. Next he tilted his head and studied her with a hooded gaze. "How came we to this? There once was a time when you and I had such high regard for one another. You were one of the finest captains in my Guard, and when first I brought you into my home I did think of you as a daughter, as you so quickly became such a close companion of Legolas. When did my affections for you change so drastically? When did your love for me as a father, as your king, dwindle to nothing?"

"In large part, I suspect, it is the darkness," Tauriel replied after a moment of thought. "The long shadow of Mordor poisons not only the forest but also those who dwell within it. It leeches from us all the love and caring we possess.

"And that is precisely why we _must_ fight back! If we do not, we risk losing the essence of who we are. Wherever the need may be, my Lord—whether here in the woods of our home or in the hills and plains of Men—we _must_ go. _All_ life is precious, be it mortal or immortal, and _all_ are responsible for its protection."

Thranduil surprised her by smiling, and even more so when he said, "You are incredible."

She blinked, confused by his sudden change of attitude. The king laughed lightly. "You have always been so full of passion, always had so much spirit… I do not know why I ever thought I could contain you."

His smile fell and he sighed. Thranduil then turned and mounted the steps up to the throne platform, coming to a stop near the steps to the throne itself.

"I think, to some degree, you are right about me," he said. "Whether by the sickness that plagues this forest or the immeasurable pain of losing someone who was more dear to me than my own life, I am poisoned. Since the loss of my wife, I have built an impenetrable wall around my heart. But it not only keeps others from getting in, it would seem—it also keeps me from getting out."

He turned then to face her. "You must believe me, I _want_ to care—about this world, about the people who dwell in it. But I have maintained an attitude of austere indifference, pretending not to give a damn about anyone or anything else but my own kin and my own home, for so very long that… I think I began to believe the lie. That protecting Elvish lives—and only Elvish lives—was the only thing that mattered anymore. And because of that, I fear that I no longer know how to care about anyone or anything else."

Tauriel was so overwhelmed by the confession that tears welled in her eyes. Blinking them away, she ascended the steps to the platform once more and moved to stand before him, though before she could think of anything to say, he spoke again.

"The reason I wished to speak to you was not to argue or resurrect old hurts," he said. "I only wished to see how you had fared these last few months. It was, I see, a poor attempt at making amends."

Biting her lip, knowing she could give no less of herself than he had, Tauriel tentatively reached for his hand. Thranduil seemed surprised by the gesture, though when he made no move to pull his hand away, she then placed her other on top and looked up at him. "I believe that no matter how awkward the start, any attempt to be better than you were is a great one. And I, too, must offer my apologies, sire. For so long I have been angry over the loss of my parents, for how I believed you cared for me so little, that I no longer know how not to be. Add on to that the heartbreak I endured all too recently, and I now find myself wondering if I am even capable of being kind again."

Thranduil lifted their joined hands and laid his free one on top. "I do not think that you are so far gone as that—after all, but a moment ago you spoke quite forcefully in favor of all life being precious."

He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "You and I must now make a promise to each other: We must both strive to remember how much we cared about the world around us, that we may once again feel that love for all living things—including each other."

Tauriel nodded her agreement, and in that moment felt her heart lighten…for now she was free of a burden that she had carried for a great many years.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Gen ú-gennin anann_. – I did not see you for a long time.

 _iell_ _n_ _í_ _n_ – my daughter

 _thêl_ – sister

 _Daro_ – stop

 _Iesten_ – please

 _Naethen_ – I'm sorry (lit. 'my sorrow')


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I feel compelled to take a moment to thank all who have reviewed, followed, and/or favorited this story - your support means the world to me! The kindness of the reviews has been most uplifting and encouraging. I would have loved to reply personally to all but could not, so to the following I give a special thanks for your cheers: Pam, Guest, sweetmochi, Mint Julips, and Blue Cauldron.**

* * *

Bard wandered somewhat aimlessly through the crowd as his people perused the wares offered by their Elven hosts. The feast last night had been a great success, and so far this day of trade and purchase was going smoothly as well. It was mostly purchase, of course, on the part of the Men, as his people had little yet to offer other than gold and silver. Items they bought ranged from clothing to baskets, from tools for crafting to weapons for defense. There were musical instruments and even toys for sale.

No matter its purpose, everything that lay before their eyes was clearly of exceptional quality.

He sensed another's approach and suspected it was the king; it was indeed Thranduil whom he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye.

"I do hope that your kin are offering fair prices to mine," Bard said lightly.

His companion emitted a barely audible snort. "I assure you, Lord Bard, that my people would not dream of over-charging such honored guests."

Bard glanced at him. "'Honored guests', are we? You are kind to say so."

Thranduil nodded. "Speaking of kind," he began, then held up a large green gemstone that Bard immediately knew was one of the emeralds he had gifted to the king.

"I don't suppose you would be of a mind to part with anymore of these? They truly are exquisite," the elf said.

Bard grinned, but shook his head. "Although I appreciate your admiration of my ancestor's heirlooms, I am afraid I must disappoint you, my Lord. My son is in need of a legacy to provide for the family he will one day have, and my daughters have need of proper dowries for their own marriages."

A conspiratorial smile lifted the corners of the Elven king's mouth. "From what I hear, your children will soon have little need of legacies to provide for the families they do not yet have. Young mortal men and women from all over Middle-earth will no doubt be trampling each other at the city gate for the chance to be bride or groom to the son and daughters of the King of Dale."

It was Bard's turn to snort. "Wherever did you hear such a rumor?" he asked.

Thranduil stopped walking, forcing Bard to stop as well. He turned to face the other man, who said, "Your own people have spoken of it freely—they tell my kin that one day you are to be anointed King. Do they perpetuate a falsehood?"

Bard shook his head. "No, they do not. Such has been their desire from the day I smote the dragon down, it would seem—though it is not for lack of trying to convince them otherwise."

For a moment, Thranduil only stared at him. He then turned his gaze to the people that surrounded them.

"Your fellow Men follow you, Bard; they have fought and died for you. You have given them direction, inspired a sense of purpose and hope in their breast. You desire to see them protected and prosperous, else you would not be here."

The king's eyes fell upon his once more. "Are these not things a king would do for his people?"

Bard could not help the laugh that escaped him. Thranduil tilted his head to the side and asked, "Something I said amuses you?"

"In a manner of speaking," he replied. "Tauriel actually said much the same thing to me some months ago."

His own gaze traveled among the Men and Elves as Thranduil's had and soon he found her. Tauriel stood across the glen alongside his girls as they looked at flutes and harps. He smiled as the three of them shared a laugh.

"Tauriel is wiser than ever I gave her credit for," Thranduil said softly. When Bard looked back, he went on. "I took her in as a child after her parents, also members of my Guard, were both killed by orcs. Even in her grief, she was bright and curious. Always wanting to know more. To know why. I ignored her curiosity—even tried to stamp it out—for her spirit reminded me painfully of Legolas' mother. I became so consumed with my own self-importance and the need to drive all reminders of my wife from my sight that I failed to love Tauriel as I should have loved her: as a daughter."

"She… once said to me that she did not know if she was worthy of the friendship of a king," Bard said slowly. "That because she was born a Silvan elf, you considered her unfit to be a mate to your son."

Thranduil closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. He sighed deeply before looking up again with an expression of sorrow on his brow. "It grieves me to admit she spoke the truth. Long have those of Silvan blood been considered inferior to those who are Sindarin born, and I am guilty of executing that prejudice.

"Bard, I am a good king… who does not always remember to be a good man," he said. "I pray you do not make the same mistakes as I have when you are made king also."

The countenance of the man before him told Bard that this was a person with many, many regrets—centuries of them, in fact. His treatment of Tauriel was but one.

"You can, I believe, make recompense for your unkindness," he said. "All you need do is be a kinder man, a kinder king, from this day forward. Show more compassion to your people and all whom you meet—treat no one person different from any other."

A smile slowly made its way across the other man's face. "You may have no desire to be a king, _hîr nín_ Bard, but there is little doubt you shall make a great one."

The sigh that followed those words was one of resignation. "Sadly, I do not know if it is possible for me to be any different—I've had thousands of years to perfect my particular brand of arrogance, after all."

Bard could not help but grin at that, and after a moment Thranduil did the same. "Every man can change his ways," he said. "He must only possess the will to do so."

"I propose the same to you, _mellon nín_ ," Thranduil countered. "For though you desire not to be a king, it would seem that it is a fate you cannot escape. Therefore you must embrace it, and instead desire to be deserving of the honor your people will bestow upon you."

"Indeed I must," Bard agreed as he once again looked around them. "It is my desire to do what need demands—leading this expedition on a journey that will keep us away from our homes for months is but a small part of ensuring the well-being of my people."

"It is a noble venture," the elf agreed. "Though certainly you will attract many to your city who desire only a chance to persuade the dwarves to part with some of their treasure."

Bard laughed fully then. "They may try as they like—you and I both know such attempts will be made in vain."

Thranduil followed his roving gaze: everywhere they looked they found smiling faces. People were talking and laughing, Elf and Man alike. Even the three dwarves had been well-received this time around. Bard noted Ori off to the side, scribbling away on parchment, apparently taking note of everything happening around him.

"You will leave tomorrow?"

He was startled from his observations by Thranduil's question, but nodded. "Aye. I think it best," he said. "Although the company has been most pleasant and your hospitality greatly appreciated, my Lord, if we are to return to Dale by midsummer we cannot linger too long in any one place."

Thranduil began walking again and Bard fell into step beside him. "Where will you go next?" the Elf-king asked.

"The plan is to pass through Mirkwood and cross the Anduin," Bard replied. "We will travel south along the river and make a stop or two in the towns along the way before we reach Lothlórien. From there we go to Rohan, and then Gondor, where we will cross the river again and turn northeast, making our way through the Brown Lands toward Rhun. There by the Sea of Rhûn, as you know, lies a great city of our kin, Dorwinion, where we will visit and trade before at last turning north and heading home."

"I shall send along some of the Guard to guide you to the western border of my realm," Thranduil said. "As Tauriel has surely told you, these woods are unfortunately plagued by many dangers that have not yet been driven out."

"I've no doubt that they will be, now that Dol Guldor is emptied of the Necromancer's fell presence," said Bard. "And I thank you for the concern you show to the welfare of my people. It lightens my heart that you desire to see us reach the other side in safety."

"Also take heed to be ever watchful as you traverse the Brown Lands," Thranduil warned. "For it is said there are Men in those wastes who have gone wild and feral, and in Rhûn there will be Easterlings also to contend with."

Bard nodded. "Be assured that I take your warning to heart, especially with women and children along. But we shall avail ourselves well should we encounter danger on our travels, for—with all due thanks to you, my Lord—my men have been trained to fight by one of the best Guards your Woodland Realm has ever known."

* * *

"But I don't want to go to sleep! I'm not tired at all!"

Tauriel stepped into the tent she shared with Bard's daughters as Tilda was protesting going to bed. Sigrid looked to her for assistance and the elf shook her head, while at the same time fighting a smile.

"Tilda, you _must_ go to bed now," the elder girl pressed. "We are leaving very early on the morrow, and Da will not be pleased if you are difficult to wake."

When Tilda stomped her foot and stood with her hands on her hips, Tauriel knew she had to intervene. "Sigrid is right, you know. Your father will not be happy if anyone delays our departure, least of all one of his own brood."

"And it won't reflect well on Da if he cannot rouse his own children on time," Sigrid added. "Our people look to him for guidance, remember?"

The little girl scrunched her face at them, but nevertheless she turned and threw herself onto her bedroll, turning to face away from them. "Fine, I will lay down. But I will _not_ go to sleep!"

Her declaration was followed by a not-so-well concealed yawn. Tauriel and Sigrid looked to each other and smiled.

"You should go to bed as well," the elf suggested. "Be a good example for your sister."

"I plan to," Sigrid replied as she pulled a light blanket up over Tilda's shoulder. "Unlike this one here, I'm quite worn out. Oh, it was such a wonderful day! The elves were so kind and friendly. Tauriel, didn't you just have a grand time? Wasn't Da's music lovely?"

Tauriel had been with the girls as they selected an oboe from the tables of instruments her kin had offered. Apparently the day before had been their father's birthday (she knew Men celebrated the day they were born; Elves celebrated they date they were beget, as they believed that life began at conception), and he once had played the instrument with some proficiency, Sigrid recalled—that is, until their mother had died. He had not played it since, but she was hoping that with things looking up for their people, and his being happier in recent days than he'd been in some time, he would take up playing again.

Bard had been thoroughly surprised with the gift when it was presented at dinnertime, saying he hadn't even known she recalled his playing it. He also remarked that he had honestly forgotten his own birthday had passed, having been so preoccupied with thoughts of their people and the journey they were now on. Then Tilda, who had been only three when her mother passed and did not recall his music, had begged him to play a song. After playing a few test notes to re-familiarize himself with the instrument, he had played two.

Tauriel smiled as Sigrid settled into her own bedroll. "Yes, your father's playing was a joy to listen to. And it was indeed a welcome thing to be in the presence of my kin once more."

"Have you been terribly lonely among us?"

"Only a little," she admitted. "You know that my time in Dale was the first in which I spent more than a few nights outside these woods. While I have missed being among my people, I have certainly not wanted for pleasant company."

"No doubt… Da helped you out… there," piped up a sleepy Tilda.

"Your father and I are…good friends," Tauriel replied. "Go to sleep now."

She turned to make a quick exit but wasn't fast enough. "He likes you, Tauriel," Sigrid said. "I've seen the way Da looks at you. I think he would court you if you would but be of mind to accept his affections."

Sigrid was certainly an observant young woman, Tauriel mused. _Too observant_.

Aloud she said, "I remind you, dear girl, that your father is mortal and I am Elfkind. Such affection from him, though I doubt any exists—" _Liar! You know it does._ "—would be sadly misplaced."

Sigrid sat up. "But why?" she protested. "Can a Man not love an Elf?"

Smiling kindly, Tauriel said, "Child, I am already many lives of Men older than your father. It would be an unkindness to both of us, for I would long outlive him and he would pass away in old age while I remain unchanged."

She moved the tent flap aside and made to step out, turning back to say, "I pray you would put any thought of your father and I as more than friends out of your mind, Sigrid, for I fear that the future of such dreams will only bring your heart disappointment."

With that, she pushed the tent flap aside and stepped out. Tauriel stopped short at the sight of Bard, who stood frozen before her.

 _He had heard_.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks go out to DaniellaBlue, Mint Julips, Guest, geekend, and Violette Penn for the reviews. Special thanks this time around to Violette for your kind words as to my writing style and portrayal of the characters - especially Tauriel, whom we really didn't get to know in-depth. I'm so happy that you think I'm writing her and all the canon characters so well.**

 **Oh, and though she is not (yet) on FFN, I really should give thanks to my friend Anna, who created the character Alaren for her own story, and let me borrow her for mine.**

* * *

"Bard, I…" she started to say, stricken by the hurt she saw in his eyes.

He stopped her with a shake of his head. "There is no need," Bard said, his voice gruff. "You have made yourself perfectly clear. Goodnight, Captain."

His back stiff and his footfalls heavy, Bard turned and walked over to the tent he shared with Bain. Tauriel watched him jerk the flap aside and disappear within, and her heart skipped beneath her breast at the knowledge that she had caused him pain.

Funny… She had thought that by keeping her distance, by putting off his few advances, she would be sparing him inevitable heartache.

All she had done with her efforts was to cause it.

* * *

The next morning, Tauriel awoke with the hope that she could make amends with Bard. She did not know how she would achieve this goal but she knew she had to try, for she had no desire to lose the friendship she had come to value so highly.

It wasn't long, however, before she learned that peace between them would be hard to come by: Bard's reception was icy when she greeted him.

"Good morning, Captain," he replied in a clipped tone. "I trust you slept well."

"I did, thank you," she lied. Truth be told, she had slept rather poorly. The discord she knew she had sown had weighed heavily on her mind, and so she had not got much sleep at all.

"Are Sigrid and Tilda awake? I desire we be ready to break camp soon, and on our way west."

Her heart thumping as it had the night before, Tauriel for a moment could not speak. At last she managed, "They are packing up their bedding as we speak."

"Hurry them along, will you? The tent will take longer to break down than bedrolls," Bard said.

"Certainly, my Lord," she replied, and turned back into the tent behind her.

Once all carts and horses and rucksacks were packed, the company made a quick breakfast of dried meats and bread. Fruits were passed around also while they gathered together in a line, preparing for departure. Before long, a number of armed elves appeared in the glen, led by Alaren.

 _Someone, at least, seems pleased to look upon me_ , Tauriel thought as her friend approached wearing a smile on her face.

"My company and I are to see you all safely to the western border by order of the king," Alaren said.

"We welcome your escort gladly," Bard spoke up. Tauriel glanced at him and saw that he was smiling, and for the first time since she had met him, realized that he'd not had a smile for her.

That hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the king. She bowed her head as he approached her.

"I have something for you, Tauriel," Thranduil said, then waved one of the elves that had followed him forward. Taking from him the bow he carried, the king handed it to her.

"With all due respect to the longbow of Men, with which you are no doubt as accurate as ever you were, I thought it fitting I give to you a bow made by your kin—seeing as I deprived you of the last one."

She remembered the incident well. She had stood in his way and declared he would not be walking away from the Dwarves when they were in need. Not again. She had pulled an arrow from her quiver and drawn on her own king and proclaimed that he was without love. In return, he had hacked her bow in half with his sword and asked her if she was willing to die for the love she felt for Kíli. Had it not been for Legolas' intervention, Thranduil could have killed her.

By the laws of their kind, he'd have been within his right to do so. He still could have when he had come upon her at Ravenhill, and instead he had been… Well, she wasn't sure if 'moved' was the right word, but seeing her in such pain had certainly put a crack in that wall of indifference he surrounded himself with. He'd lifted his decree of banishment and asked her to return home with him, to lead a company of the Guard once more.

Perhaps one day she would still do so, but not yet. A feeling Tauriel could not put words to compelled her to remain as she was, traveling with Bard's company. At least until they returned to Dale. Perhaps then she would know for sure where she belonged.

The bow, Tauriel saw, was exactly the same as the one she had owned before. In spite of her heavy thoughts she found herself smiling as her eyes traced the elegant curves and the leaf-like carvings on the grip. Slipping the weapon over her head as she had done many times before, she settled it in place and then looked to Thranduil.

Bowing her head again, she said, " _Le fael, hîr nín_."

" _Glassen_ , Tauriel," Thranduil replied.

He then turned to Bard. "It has been a great pleasure to have you as my guests," he said.

Bard nodded. "It is most gracious of you to say so, though we came upon you uninvited," he replied. "You and your kin have been most welcoming to me and mine. I hope one day soon to visit with you again, _mellon_ _nín_."

Thranduil smiled at having been called "my friend" in his own tongue, and nodded his head. " _Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle_ ," he replied.

Tauriel saw that Bard was slightly confused by the farewell, and she was glad when he looked to her for clarification. Though she knew it was not the literal translation, she said softly, "His Majesty wishes you a good journey, my Lord."

" _Hennaid_ ," he said to Thranduil in Sindarin.

Moments later, Bard climbed up on his horse. Tauriel mounted hers as well, and with final waves and farewells, the company departed.

Travel through the woods was spent in quiet conversation, at least among the majority of the company. The people talked to each other here and there, but kept their voices low as though they were afraid to speak too loudly. Tauriel considered it wise on their part, though surely they had heard only rumors of the dangers in these woods.

Like her counterpart, Alaren, Tauriel's eyes roamed along both sides of the path. The deeper into the forest they went, the more likely they were to encounter those wretched giant spiders. Being on alert for an attack served to keep her mind from dwelling on the tension that now lay between her and Bard. It could be dealt with later, when they were away from the threats that even now she could almost sense dancing among the trees.

"Alaren," she called out, and the captain made her way back to her, looking up as she walked alongside her horse.

"Yes?" the other captain asked.

Tauriel glanced around. "How have the spiders behaved these last few months?"

"Oddly enough, we have seen fewer of them since the Necromancer's banishment from Dol Guldor," Alaren replied. "I suspect as you do that they were nested there, and without his fell presence to conceal them, they have chosen to flee."

"But still some remain?"

Alaren nodded. "Unfortunately," she spat. "Companies of the Guard go out daily to wipe out what remnants can be found."

Her gaze roaming the trees again, Tauriel could not shake the sense of impending danger that had taken hold of her. "I fear we will soon meet some of those remnants," she said. "They will not be able to pass up the opportunity presented by so many together as we are."

Her companion nodded again. "The same threat has been growing in my mind," she said quietly, her own eyes looking to and fro.

At that moment, Bard came up on Tauriel's right side. "I am getting the same feeling as I had before we entered the wood day before last," he said. "Only this time, I feel a great sense of danger behind the watchers."

Tauriel saw the webbing at the same time as the point guard shouted, "Spiders!"

One of the behemoth arachnids launched itself at the man, who was knocked to the ground as he drew his sword. Tauriel had her bow drawn and set in the space of a heartbeat, and her arrow landed in the spider's hide right next to Alaren's. The elf that was knocked over crawled out from under it and gave it an angry hack with his sword before turning back to the company.

Sigrid and Tilda, and a few of the other women, screamed in terror as suddenly the trees shook and more of the spiders came down around them. Man and Elf alike, and those of the women that were armed, drew swords and knives in preparation to fight.

"Bain! Protect your sisters!" Bard shouted at his son, before turning Huron into a charge at one of the larger spiders.

"Everyone stay together! Those with weapons surround those who have none!" shouted the boy; Tauriel noted with satisfaction that his words were heeded, and a long circle formed around the line of unarmed folk with weapons facing outward.

Quickly slipping off of Fera's back, she then ran directly at one of the spiders, sending an arrow straight into its open mouth. The beast shrieked and spasmed as it fell heavily to the forest floor. Already she was turning to another, and another arrow flew, killing it as well. All around her the Guard and some of the company were fighting the spiders, hacking at their legs and bodies with sword and knife. Spiders were shrieking and screeching, hissing and snapping their mandibles. Tauriel saw that at least four people had been injured, and though she longed to aid them she could not. The damnable spiders had to be dealt with first.

Even as her fourth arrow was released she was notching another, and as she turned toward a spider that had just dropped from the trees, Bard charged at it with his sword raised. All movement around her seemed to slow as she watched the spider leap, knocking the man from his horse.

" _Bard!_ " Tauriel screamed, running at the two while letting her arrow loose. She drew another and fired it, then upon reaching them pulled one of her knives and jammed it between the spider's eyes with all the force she could muster. She then dropped her bow and tried to lift the monstrous insect, and after a few moments of straining to heft its weight she managed to roll the carcass onto its back.

Bard was no longer pinned, but he didn't move. In fact, he didn't even appear to be breathing.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Le fael_ – You are generous (formal/reverential 'thank you')

 _Glassen_ – My pleasure

 _Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle._ – May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: As you all know by now, server issues kept pretty much everyone form being able to sign in yesterday - which is why this installment is late. Thanks once again to my reviewers, readers, favoriters and followers - you guys are awesome to keep reading this story!**

* * *

"No!" Tauriel cried, dropping to her knees beside him.

Blood poured from cuts on Bard's forehead and right arm. Tauriel put her hands on both and pressed down, trying to stop the flow.

"Wake up, Bard!" she cried. "Come on, wake up!"

 _Don't do this to me. Please, don't you die on me as well_.

Shifting position slightly, she put her ear to his chest and listened. His heart was beating, the pace erratic, and his lungs were still. On instinct, she moved to place her mouth over his, blowing air into him. She watched his chest rise but he took no command of his own breathing, so she lifted her head, drew a deep breath, and closing her mouth over his once more, blew again.

She jumped back when suddenly Bard coughed. His eyes fluttered open and his gaze locked on hers.

"So this…is what I had to do…to get you to kiss me?"

Tears stung her eyes even as she smiled. If he was of a mind to joke, Bard was going to be all right.

Looking around them, Tauriel noted that the brief battle had ended. The wounded were being tended to. Alaren approached with Huron's reigns in her hand.

"How is everyone?" Bard asked as he made to sit up. Tauriel held him steady when he swayed.

"Six are injured—seven, adding yourself—but none are dead, _hîr_ _ní_ _n,_ " the elf replied.

"Then it was not our day to die," Bard said. "Help me to stand, _hiril ní_ _n_."

Tauriel blinked at being called "my lady" in her native tongue, as Bard had never addressed her in that manner before. Nonetheless, she stood and held out her hand to him. He took it and pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly. "We must see to your wounds, my Lord," she said.

Bard looked at the cut on his arm, then raised his hand to his head and held it to the wound there. "That blasted spider did more than knock the wind out of me, it seems."

He took a step and swayed again, and Alaren dropped the horse's lead to help Tauriel keep him standing. "I don't think you've lost much blood," the dark-haired elf said, "but you likely hit your head petty hard. Let us help you to a wagon where you can sit and be tended."

"I think that would be wise," he replied.

They led him slowly back to where the company was gathered. His girls fussed and cried at the sight of him, but Bard assured them he would be fine. "My injuries are minor, I assure you," he told them with a smile.

"He'll be fine," Tauriel added as she helped him sit on the open end of the cart they rode in. "Your father needed a good knock on the head."

Tilda giggled at that, and Bain and Sigrid smiled. Sigrid then retrieved clean cloths and a flask of water, handing them to Tauriel so she could clean the blood from his arm. Once the arm wound was clean and bound, she started on his face.

"The cut is not deep, but we should wrap it to keep it clean," she said as she wiped blood and dirt away.

"I bow to your wisdom," he said.

"I'd rather you didn't—I don't want to have to pick you up off the ground again," she replied with a smile.

Bard grinned. "I think you're more afraid of having to kiss me again," he teased.

"I'm not afraid of that at all," Tauriel shot back. "Though for the record, that was not a kiss. I was merely helping you to breathe again by giving you the air from my lungs. No, _hîr_ _ní_ _n_ , that was not a kiss."

She paused in her ministrations and placed her hand on his cheek, turning his head to face her. "This is a kiss," she said, and touched her lips to his.

Tauriel knew she had shocked him when he immediately stilled. Then Bard lifted his own hands and held her head in place, kissing her back with enthusiasm. The contact was brief, lasting only a few heartbeats, but she had to admit that it was more than enough to send a powerful shock along her nerves. They broke apart to the sound of his daughters' giggles; Tauriel was not the only one to draw a deep breath.

Bard looked at her, wonder in his eyes. He was clearly surprised by her action, and in truth, so was she. She'd done it on impulse, as part of the joke, but kissing Bard had definitely _not_ been funny.

It had been wonderful.

"I'm sorry about last night," she said at last, returning her attention to the cut on his temple. "It was not my intention to upset you, I just…"

"Didn't want Sigrid to get her hopes up," he finished for her. "I understand. I know I shouldn't have got my hopes up, either. You were pretty clear before when you said you could not be sure your feelings for me would change."

Tauriel sighed. "That's just it. If I am to be honest with you and with myself, I must then admit that they _have_ changed," she said slowly. "But I am at the same time confused by it. If I have already loved once, how is it possible that I could love again?"

He took her free hand in his. "It pains me that I cannot give you an answer to that. It is, I imagine, one that only you may discover. For what I hope is wise counsel, I can only say this: Listen to your heart, Tauriel, for the heart knows reason of which reason knows nothing."

She said nothing while she finished cleaning the cut and then wrapped a dry cloth around his head. Looking into his eyes, she saw renewed hope. She found herself wanting desperately to share in it, to explore the feelings that they had for each other. But her doubt and confusion still weighed heavily on her mind.

Bain came up to them then, holding his father's sword, Tauriel's dagger, her bow and the two arrows she had shot into the spider that had injured Bard. "Figured you might be wanting these back," he said.

"Thank you, son," Bard told him. "We're not out of the woods yet and thus not out of danger. Tauriel and I shall need these for the company's defense."

"By the way, Master Bain, you did quite well today," Tauriel added.

The young man shrugged. "I didn't kill any spiders," he said.

Bard put a hand on his son's shoulder. "You took a commanding role and the armed listened to you. For that reason your sisters and others in our party are safe."

"There is no shame in protecting the helpless, Bain," Tauriel went on. "Seek not glory in taking a life, but in sparing many."

Bain looked to her and nodded. At that moment, Alaren approached. She handed Tauriel four more arrows as she said, "My Lord, all the wounded are tended. I think it best we are on our way."

With a careful nod, Bard slipped off of the end of the cart. He was much steadier on his feet this time, but Tauriel stood close in case he lost balance. "I will heed your advice, Captain. I've little desire to spend more than one night in the open woods than you, I suspect."

Alaren grinned. "Indeed not. I would rather take my rest in the halls of our fortress, thank you very much."

Bard made his way over to where Huron waited patiently. "There's a good lad," he said as he patted the horse's neck. "Thanks for not running off and leaving me here."

Huron lifted his head and snorted as though to say "Like I would commit such a cowardly act". Bard chuckled and grabbed hold of the saddle, pausing when Sigrid said, "Da, maybe you should ride in the wagon with us. You're injured, after all."

"Yeah, Bain can ride on Huron for a while," Tilda added.

Tauriel only lifted an eyebrow when he glanced her way; to his daughters he said, "Girls, I assure you I am quite well enough to ride a horse."

The girls looked to Tauriel, and in their expressions she noted deep concern. "My Lord, I think perhaps you ought listen to their advice," she said. When he looked back to her, she took a step closer and added in a softer voice, "They're worried about you. It can't hurt to give them a little reassurance by riding with them for a time."

"I bow to your wisdom," Bard said, then winked at her before handing Huron's reigns to Bain and walking back to the wagon. He climbed up in the seat as his son mounted the horse, receiving hugs and smiles from his daughters as they settled on either side of him.

Tauriel watched the brief scene play out, and for the first time in a very long time felt a stirring in her heart, a desire for something she'd missed for the last six hundred years:

A family.


	15. Chapter 15

**Bonus chapter!**

* * *

Travel through the woods was uneventful for the rest of the day, though care taken for the comfort of the injured meant the pace was slower. When they camped for the night, a watch of elves and men (and one of the three dwarves) settled around the company on high alert—fortune remained with them in that the hours passed undisturbed. When morning dawned, everyone rose and packed quickly, though it was still early evening before they reached the west gate.

As the company passed through, their Elven guard stayed behind, gathered together at the edge of the trees.

"Here we must bid you farewell," the captain said.

Bard climbed down from the wagon—which he had guided again at the behest of his daughters—and walked over to her, joined by Tauriel and Gudmund. "Thank you for seeing us safely this far, Captain Alaren," he said. "Please bear the gratitude of myself and my people back to your king."

"I second that," added Gudmund, whose arm was in a sling. "Were it not for your escort, there might be more than one of us left behind in the wood—myself included."

Alaren nodded her head. "You are most welcome, my lords. May the light of Eärendil continue to bless you on your journey."

Smiling, Bard bowed his head. "And the same to you as you return to your fortress home. _Namárië_ , Alaren."

He turned away with Gudmund at his side as Tauriel stepped closer to Alaren, to give the two friends a moment to say goodbye in private. He walked over to Bain and bid him return to the wagon with the girls, and as he effortlessly swung himself up into Huron's saddle he glanced back toward the trees to see Tauriel coming toward the company and the Guard disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

When Tauriel was mounted on Fera once more, Bard glanced around at the company and then said, "I do not think we will reach Carrock before nightfall. However, there are still a couple hours of light left to us. I say we press on a while longer."

Both Tauriel and Gudmund nodded their agreement, and so it was that the company continued until more than a few stars shown in the night sky. Though weary from the fight the afternoon before and the over-long day to exit the forest, it was with eagerness to see their beds that tents were quickly raised and fires started for warmth. Only the few children in the group expressed a pressing desire for food, and their parents hurried them into bedrolls with a piece of fruit and a bit of dried meat.

Sleep was about to claim Tauriel when she heard Sigrid's tired voice say, "So you _do_ like him."

Too tired to argue, the elf replied, "I have never spoken to the contrary."

She heard Sigrid sit up. "But you told us night before last that we ought not get our hopes up about you and Da, then yesterday you kissed him."

They'd not spoken of the kiss until now because Tauriel had not lain down with them as she usually did—she'd stayed up all the night through keeping watch, which was why she was so tired now. Truthfully, she'd hoped that she could avoid having to discuss it with one or both girls, but she should have known better.

Turning her head, Tauriel found Sigrid's face in the dark. "I am sorry that my words and my actions have confused you. Truth be told, my young friend, I feel just as confused by them. Things are unfortunately very complicated where your father and I are concerned."

Sigrid sighed as she lay back down. "Da likes you. You like him. I don't see what's so complicated in that."

Tauriel smiled at her words, though it was shadowed with sadness. _If only it were that simple_.

* * *

At dawn, Carrock—which had the night before been seen only as a dark shadow—loomed large down the river as the party broke camp. The spire of rock too small to be truly an island sat in the middle of the Anduin, seemingly out of place.

"However will we cross the river, sire?" asked Gudmund.

Balin answered him. "The Company of Thorin crossed here last summer—the water around the rock is shallow."

"The wagons should float easily enough," Bard added, "though I advise taking care with the horses and the young."

"And if you've not had a bath of late," added Tauriel with a smirk, "you are sure to get one today."

Bard's gaze roamed over the group as he said, "Everyone but the two smallest children will have to swim so as to keep the wagons light. The current appears to be swift this morning so remember to keep calm, and you will make it safely to the other side."

"Might I suggest a short rest on the rock, sir?" Bofur suggested. "I have no doubt we'll all have need of it."

"A wise idea, Master Dwarf," Bard agreed. "When we are all on the other side, we'll break again to change into drier clothes. It will delay our progress some, but we'll all be more comfortable for it."

"We'll not have to do this again when we cross in Gondor, will we?" asked one of the ladies in the company.

"Certainly not," he replied with a grin. "It is my understanding that they have great ships there, even large enough to carry us all across at once."

In less than an hour's time, they had reached the place where they would cross. Bard climbed down from Huron and pulled the stallion's lead over his head. He looked around for signs of Beorn, the skin-changer who lived nearby, but saw none. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the river and resolved himself against the likelihood that the water was cold, and went in first.

Which it most definitely was, he discovered instantly, and it was an effort not to gasp aloud. He pulled on Huron's lead and urged the horse forward; his steady mount stepped carefully into the water but was less shy about voicing his displeasure at its temperature, as he whinnied loudly the further they went in. He was glad for the horse's height of just over 16 hands, for though the water went over his back it was still under his head.

As soon as they were close enough to the rock, Bard urged Huron forward onto it so that he could help the others. His children were first and he noted Bain was doing an excellent job of keeping the horse attached to their wagon calm. Tilda's teeth were chattering and he gave her a pat on the shoulder, assuring her it wouldn't be long before she was dry again.

Although the going was slower than he would have liked, everyone was soon crowded on the rock together, huddled close in an effort to warm themselves. Bard gave them a few minutes to shore up their strength, taking the time to check the horses and people for injuries and the wagons for damage, before he urged them to begin the second crossing.

"You know what I think?" said a young man named Tormen as he stopped next to Bard by the water's edge.

"What's that?" Bard asked.

"There ought to be a bloody bridge so folks don't have to near drown themselves or travel months down to Gondor just to get to the other side of the river," Tormen said.

A few of the people in earshot murmured their agreement. Bard clapped him on the shoulder and said, "That is a fine idea, Tormen. Perhaps you ought to consider bringing a group back here either later this summer or early next and see that it's done."

Tormen appeared to consider his words. "You know? I just might do that, sire. I just might," he said. The boy then shook himself and stepped into the water.

The full time of the crossing was about an hour, from the eastern short to the west. Bard hated to lose the time it would take for everyone to change into dry clothing, but he knew it was necessary. He made quick work of his own change and urged the others to do the same, that they might be much further down river by the afternoon.

"I think we're about ready to go, _hîr_ _nín_."

Bard turned from helping Tilda back onto the wagon's seat at the sound of Tauriel's voice behind him…and was unable to hide the shock at seeing her wearing a dress.

She'd never worn a dress before.

"I know, I know," she said with a roll of her eyes. "It is entirely not my style—or my color. Not that I really have a 'style', as it were. But the color…"

She picked at the skirt of the dark yellow muslin that fell to about mid-calf, the same length as her usual green traveling coat. The neck was open wide and fell below her collar bones; the sleeves ended at the crook of her elbow on the inside of her arm, with fabric at the back reaching to her wrists. The hem, cuffs, and collar were trimmed with a thin strip of brown, and there was a row of brown buttons down the front, save for a swath about a hand-width wide at the waist, most likely meant for a belt. In fact, she had strapped her knife belt and quiver there. The ensemble was completed with a pair of dark brown leggings and her own dark brown boots.

"I'm really surprised Dorna's dress fit me, but I have only the one traveling outfit and she said I could borrow this because it was dry and I had nothing else and she had other dry things she could wear… and now I'm rambling like a silly girl."

He didn't care that she was rambling nonsensically—Bard was too captivated by the change in her appearance, simple though it was, to think of anything to say.

* * *

 **Quenya:**

 _Namárië_ \- Farewell


	16. Chapter 16

He was staring at her, his mouth open in shock. Tauriel felt suddenly nervous, not entirely sure if he was pleased or not.

"Please stop staring like a deer caught in torchlight and say something," she pleaded softly.

"I… I'm sorry," he stammered. "I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, it's just I've only ever seen you wear trousers."

Heat flushed her cheeks and she looked down at her feet, her nervousness moving into full-blown shyness. It was a strange and alien feeling, as she had never been shy in her life. "Well, a warrior can hardly fight wearing a frilly dress. The skirt and petticoats would only get in the way…"

The next thing she knew, Bard gently lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. " _Goheno_ _nin_ , Tauriel. _Thir-dîn vain darn hwest-_ _nín_ ," he said softly in Sindarin. He then lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

Now hers was the breath stolen away, and not just because he claimed her beauty had stolen his—though she was very flattered by the compliment. It was that the kiss was so unexpected, so tender. Just a soft brushing of his mouth over hers before he lifted his head again and smiled.

"Come now, _hiril_ _nín_. We'd best be off, hadn't we?"

Tauriel blinked, nodding her agreement in silence. Moving over to where her horse waited, she took Fera's reins and waited for him to take the lead. Bard had also removed Huron's tack and put it in their wagon as she had done; all who had been riding had done the same and planned to walk to give the gear and their mounts time to dry off. With the stallion's lead in hand, he stepped up beside her, then called over his shoulder for the company to move on.

She was sure that he was just as surprised as she when, on impulse, she reached over and took his free hand in hers. She felt his eyes on her and nearly pulled her hand away. Bard must have sensed her intention, for he gave her hand a gentle squeeze but thankfully remained silent. Tauriel was grateful, because for her, showing him any affection at all—even something as inconsequential as holding his hand—was a taking a _very_ big step forward.

* * *

When the company stopped to make camp that night, it was discovered that several loaves of bread had been ruined by the trek across the river. A quick conference between Bard and Gudmund led to the decision to ration what was left until they visited a village where they could purchase more.

The first several evenings of the trip had been cool, which was expected given that spring was still in its early days, but that night was moderately warm and the sky was clear. After seeing that Sigrid and Tilda were settled in their tent, Tauriel decided she would sit for a while on the riverbank so that she could look up at the stars. While there had been more than a few clear nights over the last five months, she'd felt little joy in gazing upon them. Tonight was different— _she_ was different. For the first time in the many days since she had lost Kíli, she felt a desire to sit and enjoy the starlight. She knew that meant she was finally starting to let him go, and prayed that it meant she would soon be able to move on with her life. So she sat at the river's edge with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap, enjoying the sounds of nature and the light of the stars above her.

"Would you mind terribly if I joined you?"

Tauriel did not need to look up to see who had spoken—she would know Bard's voice even were he clear across the campsite. "This dirt is not spoken for," she said casually, patting the ground beside her.

Bard gave a quiet chuckle as he lowered himself down and sat with his knees drawn up, his arms resting atop them. For a moment neither spoke, then he offered, "Despite the delay of the river crossing and changing to dry clothes, I think we made good progress today."

"We did indeed," she conceded. "The question now is whether or not there are any settlements between here and Lothlórien where we might restock our food supply."

"Unless the people have moved on, I've no doubt we will in about a half a day's march from here," Bard assured her. "As a young man, my father once bade me accompany him on a trading mission that took us through Mirkwood and south along the Anduin, much the same as we are traveling now."

"What sort of trading mission?" the elf queried.

"Mussels. There's a type what can be found in the Long Lake that many consider a delicacy, and my father was a master at gathering them. He would travel west with a large catch in the early days of summer to trade or sell, and that particular summer—when I was ten springs of age—he brought me along with the hope that I would take more of an interest in his trade."

Tauriel had to bite her lip to keep from laughing before she said, "Something tells me his efforts ended in abysmal failure."

"You're an observant one, aren't you?" Bard teased. "Yes, they most certainly did. I respected my father and the work he did, but I was always more interested in archery and swordsmanship."

"I am happy for you that you have fond memories of your father," she said then. "Regrettably, despite the capability of my people to retain memories for thousands of years, I have almost none of my parents. There are days I can barely recall what they looked like."

With a sigh, she turned her head up to the sky and gazed out at the stars. The quiet rush of the river before them combined with the light breeze blowing from the east had her closing her eyes, trying hard to recall the last time she had seen her mother and father. When all she could bring to mind were faint images, she fell back on an old trick she'd taught herself as a young elf—she used her imagination to fill in the gaps. Her mother was, of course, a beautiful woman with flowing red hair like her own, and her father a tall and regal elf with black hair and broad shoulders. And of course, he was among the handsomest of Elves.

When she opened her eyes again the middle of three stars in a line seemed for a moment to shine brighter, and Tauriel smiled. She recalled then something she had said to Kíli once during his stay in the dungeons:

" _All light is sacred to the Eldar, but wood-elves love best the light of the stars_."

She knew that wasn't the only reason she had particularly favored stars: in her youth, she had often imagined that stars were windows in the Halls of Mandos through which her parents could watch over her. She liked to believe that they still cared, even in spirit.

Silence fell between the pair once more, until Bard said, "Thank you for today."

Confused, Tauriel turned to him. "For what do I deserve thanks?"

He returned her gaze as he reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. "For this," he replied, and she remembered having taken his hand for a while after they'd crossed the river.

A flush crept up her neck and she was glad for the dark of night so that he would not see it. "You are welcome," she said.

"Tauriel, I know that with all you have been through, taking a chance on what is between us will be very hard for you," Bard went on. "I want you to know that in some ways, it is difficult for me also. Have you never considered that I might also find the prospect of new love a little fearful?"

She scoffed. "What have you to be frightened of, Bard? You are handsome and strong and fine of character—no woman who is right of mind would turn away your affections."

Bard smiled. "My darling, perhaps you have forgotten that you are an elf, and I a mere mortal. While you shall forever remain as beautiful and strong as you are, I will weaken and turn ugly with age in hardly a score of years. Sure, you might choose to grant me your heart now, but how do I know some young man or elf won't take it from me when I am too old and feeble to defend my claim on it?"

Tauriel frowned. "Elves are not so fickle as to be swayed by one who is years younger than their chosen mate. I told you—when we choose to bind ourselves to another, it is for life. Besides that, I do not think it possible you could ever be ugly."

He offered her another brief smile. "The sentiment is appreciated," he said. "However, there is more: You are a trained warrior—you have courage and skill in battle beyond measure, and I have no doubt that you would willingly give your life to save another's. But I have already lost one love and I do not know if I have the strength to survive the death of another. Though losing you in such a way is unlikely given the greatness of your abilities, the possibility remains nonetheless."

"Yet another complication that we share!" Tauriel exclaimed as she pulled her hand away and hurried to her feet. Bard stood as she paced away, and stopped in mid-step as she whirled to face him again.

"Not only have we each lost someone dear to us, but the chance is great that we might both of us fall in battle," she pointed out. "You wield a mighty sword, Bard, and an even mightier bow—but even the greatest of warriors can be slain."

He took a step toward her. "Yes, I will fight in battles in years to come, as I believe a kingdom should be defended by its king. But though our fears are justified by our past experiences, we cannot allow those fears to govern our future."

Closing the foot or so of distance between them, Bard placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her lightly. By how cautiously he moved Tauriel could tell he expected her to push him away, and she did consider doing just that…

…for all of a single heartbeat. Because she could not deny the pleasant rush of feeling that coursed through her at the gentleness of his touch, nor how _good_ it felt to be cocooned in the warmth of his embrace. That she was being held so carefully by a man who had made it perfectly clear he adored her was something she found herself wanting with a desperation that she could not put into words.

Lifting her hands to grip his shoulders, Tauriel leaned into him and sighed softly upon hearing the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear.

"So where are we now?" she asked.

"Right now we are standing on the bank of the Anduin beneath a blanket of stars," Bard replied.

Lifting her head to look at him, she said, "This is hardly an appropriate moment for facetiousness."

Bard chuckled. "My darling, I am simply attempting to help you relax and enjoy this moment. Verily I have no desire to pressure you into a courtship you don't want, but I wish you to know that despite the risks, I am quite willing to take a second chance at love."

He loosened his hold and took a step back, whereupon he looked into her eyes and said, "Whenever you are ready to take that chance with me, I'll be here waiting."

The truth of his words, the depth of his emotion, was clear in his expression. Wishing to cause him no more pain—and even more to be free of her own—Tauriel took a deep breath and said, "You shall not have to wait, for I am going to take that chance with you now."

Had anyone been watching the two of them, not one person could have missed the sheer joy that lit up Bard's face even in the dark—nor the enthusiasm with which he drew her to him once more and kissed her.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Thir-dîn vain darn hwest-nîn_. – Your beauty stayed my breath.


	17. Chapter 17

Having slept more peacefully than he had in weeks, Bard awoke the next morning with a smile. One hurdle had been overcome in regard to his having a relationship with Tauriel, and he now needed to leap just one more…

Receiving the blessing of his children.

Sigrid and Tilda had made it clear some time ago that they adored Tauriel; he had seen himself just how much they looked up to her. And of course there was that conversation he had happened upon the other night wherein the elf had warned his girls not to get their hopes up. Though Tauriel's were the only words he had heard, what she said was enough to enlighten him as to his daughters being keen on the idea of their being together.

His son was another story. Though Bain had certainly been witness to two of the kisses he and Tauriel had shared, his boy's opinion on the matter remained entirely his own. Of the three children, he was the one who had known and loved their mother the longest, and the one most likely to have reservations about his courting another woman.

Bard wondered then if perhaps he ought to have spoken with his offspring about the possibility of his seeking another woman's company _before_ declaring his intentions to Tauriel. Of course, it was too late to change that now, and he was fairly certain his having kissed her in the view of others was clear indication he had feelings for her. Still, not knowing how they truly felt weighed on him, and so it was that as the company was packing to begin the day's march, he called the children to him at the river's edge.

"Is something the matter, Da?" asked Tilda.

"Nothing is wrong," he assured her with a smile. "But there is a matter of some import that I desire to discuss with the three of you."

"It's about you and Tauriel, isn't it?"

Bard turned to Sigrid and nodded. "Yes. I think by now it must be clear to all that I have—more to my surprise than anyone else's—grown quite fond of her."

Sigrid smiled. "She _is_ very beautiful."

"Is Tauriel going to let you court her?" his youngest queried, her voice laced with excitement.

He smiled. "Yes. Last night we discussed my desire to do so at length, and she has at last agreed to a courtship."

"Oh, how wonderful, Da!" Sigrid exclaimed with a squeal. She stood on her toes then and kissed his cheek. "I'm so happy for you."

"Me too," Tilda agreed with a cheeky grin. "Are you going to marry her?"

"Tilda!" Sigrid admonished her.

Squatting down so that he was near eye level with his little girl, Bard said, "I cannot answer that question, my dear girl—not now, at least. While my affection for her has grown for some time, Tauriel's feelings for me are quite new. As you know, she lost someone she loved very much in the battle and moving on has been difficult for her. If it is our destiny to marry, I am afraid many moons will pass before it happens, as I must give her time to allow her feelings for me to grow as mine have."

He stood again and looked to Bain, who had thus far remained silent. "Son, what say you to all of this?"

Bain turned and looked over his shoulder. Bard followed his gaze to the subject of their conversation—Tauriel was helping Gudmund load his tent into a wagon. When the task was finished, she glanced over to find them watching and smiled, but quickly turned away as color came to her cheeks.

"Bain?"

His son turned back to him. "Will courting Tauriel bring you happiness, Da?"

Bard regarded him seriously. "Yes, it will. And I give you all my word that no dishonor will be made to your mother's memory."

"I would not think so," Bain replied, offering a small smile. "We know you loved our mother, Da. And she loved you very much—so much that I don't think even she would begrudge you any happiness in her absence."

"Bain is right," Sigrid agreed. "I don't think Mam would wish you to spend the rest of your life alone, not when you've the chance to have love in it again."

More love than he had ever known swelled in his chest, and Bard could say nothing for a moment as he gathered his children to him and held them close. "I do not know what I have done to deserve you all," he managed at last. "Thank you."

* * *

Word quickly spread as the group walked that Bard and Tauriel were now a couple. Not that the pair came right out and said so—it was simply that no one who cast eyes their way could mistake their behavior toward one another as anything but affectionate. There were also those times they'd seen them kiss…

Most everyone was happy for Bard. They all knew how devastated he had been by the death of his wife at so young an age. To see him smiling and laughing and looking on another woman with such adoration after so many years as a widower was a joy. Though there were those who had kept their feelings about him to themselves for fear of reprisal from the Master, the majority of the people who knew Bard had always thought highly of him. He was a man of good character who wasn't just out for himself like their former governor had been—proof of that was in how hard he had fought to get them what share of the dragon's treasure they were owed. It showed in how bravely he had defended his fellow citizens during the battle and it showed in how dedicated he had been to their survival through the winter. He might not have wanted to be their leader, but he had taken to it with grace and humility.

It was why, despite his objections, the people of Esgaroth (and Dale now also) had decided to make him a king.

Those who quietly discussed the matter agreed that a good king should have a gracious and beautiful queen by his side. Tauriel was as good a choice as any, they supposed. She might not have been born a mortal like the rest of them, or lived with them in the old Lake-town for any period of time, but she had contributed to the prosperity of their community every day since she had joined them. Many now owed their skill with blade or bow—or both—to her instruction. She had taught those interested her knowledge of medicine and she had enriched their ability to communicate with their Elven neighbors by teaching them her native language. Besides that, she was considered by most of the men in both Dale and Esgaroth to be especially lovely (though to be fair, none had ever met a she-elf who was not).

Most importantly, the man who would be king was free to choose whomever he wished to be his queen, and Bard had chosen her. That his children appeared to accept the relationship meant no one else had a say in the matter.

That didn't mean they were all of them happy about it. There was one who disagreed vehemently with Bard's choice. Dorna considered herself much better suited to being courted by him—she was a very fine catch, after all, what with her svelte body and long, wavy blonde hair. Many a male head in Lake-town had turned her way as she walked by and she had never wanted for companionship on cold nights. Still, there was one she'd not yet had whom she'd had her eye on for some time, a wild one she knew she had the talents to tame:

Bard.

True, he had three kids already, but as they were almost grown he wasn't like to want anymore—which was fine by her, because she wasn't planning to ruin her body by getting pregnant. They'd all be out of the house soon enough, and then she would have him all to herself. Putting the icing on the cake was the fact that everyone in Dale and Esgaroth was determined to make him their king. A king needed a queen, and who better to take on the role than a woman who'd known him over a score of years?

The right person to be queen certainly wasn't that damned she-elf—Tauriel hadn't even been around for six months! She could hardly say she knew him well, and didn't the story go that she had been in love with one of those stinking dwarves? That alone proved she was unfit for Bard, as anyone who wanted a dwarf that wasn't a dwarf was almost certainly addle-brained. And if she were already moving on to another man less than a year after the dead dwarf's passing, what did that say about her character? A smart woman would have known that it was proper to wait at least a year before seeking another lover.

No, having Tauriel take a place that was rightfully hers simply wouldn't do at all. It was why she'd so "graciously" offered the elf her yellow dress to wear—on herself, Dorna knew, it looked fabulous. On the elf, the mustard-toned fabric just clashed with her dull red hair. Once she'd seen it on her, it had been an effort not to laugh and profess that it suited her just fine. It annoyed Dorna that she hadn't been able to see Bard's face when first he saw Tauriel in the getup, though several of the group had said he'd appeared stunned.

If that were the case, then why the hell did he kiss her?! What could the elf have possibly said that would have excited him so—because she had looked ridiculous! Dorna fumed impotently as she watched the pair riding at the front of the column on horseback, having a conversation she could not hear. She concluded she was going to have to keep an eye on them for an opportunity to sow discord, no matter how small, to present itself.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Thought I'd throw up this bonus chapter so I could address some of the kind reviewers I could not reply to directly...**

 **Guest - Thank you so much for the kind words! I am so pleased you're enjoying the story.**

 **Theresa - I'm so pleased you're enjoying the story as well! As to my use of "kids" versus "children", it's not out of place at all, though chapter 17 may well have been the first time I'd actually used it in the story. And consider the person in whose musings we saw it - it's already clear to everyone (you the readers, that is) that Dorna's not a nice gal. Her thoughts are just as crass as she is, though she certainly hides that trait well.**

 **Violette Penn - Dorna will meet a very fitting end, though it won't be for a while yet. Thanks to you also for the kind words!**

* * *

As mid-day approached, the terrain before the company became increasingly difficult to traverse. The ground was rocky and uneven as they entered a range of foothills, with both man and horse having to take careful steps. Those in the wagons, save for the two smallest children, soon found walking preferable to rattling teeth.

Bard was again at the front of the column, walking beside Huron, when a sharp cry from behind drew his attention. The group stopped instantly and there were several gathered around someone he couldn't quite make out. Handing his stallion's lead to Tauriel, he quickly pushed his way through the throng to find Dorna on the ground, holding onto her left leg.

"What happened?" he asked as he crouched down.

"Forgive me, sire," Dorna pleaded. "I stepped on a rock and twisted my ankle."

Bard offered her a smile, recalling that she'd been one of the first to volunteer for the journey. She'd also been gracious enough to offer Tauriel something dry to wear the day before, and so he made a mental note to find a way to repay her kindness.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Dorna, accidents happen," he said as he gently took her foot in hand. "Let's get this boot off and have a look, shall we?"

Dorna nodded, though her expression remained pinched as she extended her leg so he could pull the boot off. He removed it slowly lest he exacerbate the injury, and was relieved when it came off to find no apparent bruising.

"Flex your ankle for me, of you can," Bard told her.

The young woman complied, though she hissed as she did so. "Hurts to turn it any, my Lord," she said.

"Come, let's get you up." Bard stood and passed her shoe to Halia, who was nearby, then held out his hands to Dorna. She took hold and he pulled her slowly to her feet.

Bard held onto her until she was steady. "Do you think you can walk?" he asked.

"I'll try." Dorna then put her injured foot forward; when she shifted her weight to it, she cried out as she had before and fell into Bard. His quick reflexes kept her from toppling to the ground again.

"Oh, this is quite embarrassing," she said with a sniffle, her eyes downcast.

"Don't be embarrassed," Bard said, smiling lightly when she looked up at him. "You shall have to ride for a while, that is all."

Dorna nodded when he held her away from him. "Of course, but only for a little while. I'm sure it will feel better soon. Which wagon shall I ride in?"

She turned her gaze toward the front of the column, even as Halia said, "I'm sure Magnus' boys won't object to sharing, little as they are."

A man in armor stepped forward. Bard knew him fairly well and rather liked the man, as Magnus was one of the few soldiers that hadn't been one of the Master's spies.

"I'm sure Arvid and Egil would enjoy the company since their mam had to stay home," Magnus said.

"Well, there we have it," Bard said with a smile. "Magnus, won't you help her?"

Magnus nodded and moved immediately to lift Dorna into his arms. Bard watched as he carried her back to his wagon and set her up on the seat with his sons. He recalled that Dagmar, their mother, had been forced to stay behind as she'd caught herself a nasty cold just a day or so before the company's departure from Dale. Magnus had declared he would stay with her and let someone else go in his place, but she'd insisted he go along and take the boys as planned, as it was bound to be a learning experience for them.

When Dorna was settled, Bard looked around at the company. "Everyone, be sure to watch your footing," he reminded them. "We're heading into higher ground and conditions are like to get worse before they get better."

Murmurs of agreement sounded. Dorna gave a little wave and flashed a smile from Magnus' wagon; Bard waved back, then turned and made his way front again. He smiled warmly at Tauriel as he took Huron's reins from her, then ordered the company to move on.

"Is Dorna all right?" Tauriel asked.

"Quite all right, my darling," Bard replied. "She twisted her ankle, but it didn't look bad and I am certain she'll be fine once she's rested a bit."

He noticed her cheeks reddening then. "Is something the matter?"

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, something Bard had noted some time ago that she did when she was feeling nervous, embarrassed, or shy. As such occurrences were rare he considered it a very endearing gesture.

"Tauriel?" he pressed.

"You have thrice called me 'my darling'," she said at last.

Bard raised an eyebrow. "Do you wish me to use no endearments?" he asked.

She continued to gnaw at her lip for a moment, then glanced up at last with a timid smile. "On the contrary, I find it most pleasing that you do. I just…do not know how to reply to such affectionate remarks."

Bard grinned and put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her over so that he could kiss her temple. "That you are so pleased—and that charming blush—are reply enough for now."

Behind them, he heard Tilda giggle. Bard glanced over his shoulder at her with a smile, then sobered his features and said with mock sternness, "Eyes front, you."

"But _you're_ in front of me, Da—where do you think it is I'm looking?" Tilda countered.

At that Tauriel and Sigrid laughed. Bain, who was guiding the horse attached to their wagon, rolled his eyes and shook his head. Bard fought a smile as he released Tauriel, squared his shoulders, and said, "All right then. Have it your way."

* * *

When the company came at last to the crest of the third hill late that afternoon, there were many exclamations of horror at the sight that greeted them:

A village lay in ruin, the small valley in which it was nestled a smoking waste. Fires still burned in many of the three or four dozen buildings, and none were blind to the charred remains of more than one villager lying on the ground. The heat of anger burned through Tauriel's blood at the carnage laid before them, and on reflex she drew her knives. She was not alone—beside her, Bard pulled his sword.

"Tauriel, Bain, Magnus," he said, his voice low and thick with anger. "Come with me. Gudmund, you and the rest of the men guard the company."

Gudmund acknowledged the order and started directing the armed to surround their party. When Magnus and Bain both stepped up beside them, Bard led the way down the slope. Tauriel cast her eyes about, looking for clues as to who was responsible for the tragedy. The identity of the perpetrator became sickeningly clear when they came abreast of the first home.

"Goblins," she spat with a sneer as she kicked the body of one of the foul creatures.

"At least we know they took some o' the buggers down with 'em," Magnus said. "Though it must've been a small army to take down a village this size, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed, Magnus," Bard replied. "Though it has been many years since I was here last, I recall Savis—the name of this village, lest it was changed sometime in the last twenty-six years—as a thriving community of near three hundred souls. Their number boasted many strong men and lads, and they surely would have given their all to its defense."

"If I may, _hîr nín_ ," Tauriel began, "I suggest we split up to search the buildings. We will clear them faster that way."

Bard looked to her and nodded. "Agreed," he said. Casting his eyes to his son, he then took a breath and said, "Check every body you find—if there are any goblins alive, put your sword through their heads. If you find a survivor of this village, give a shout. And let's be cautious, all of us."

Tauriel nodded, as did Bain and Magnus. The four then went in different directions to begin their search for survivors. She knew even as she stepped over another goblin corpse that the likelihood of their finding anyone alive was zero, but the elf did as Bard had instructed and checked everyone she found.

And although every goblin she encountered was just as dead as the first, Tauriel couldn't help but exact some of her anger and frustration at the atrocity by kicking each one as hard as she could. When she came across the bloodied body of a child who couldn't have been older than three, she growled through clenched teeth, and the next goblin she came across got one of her knives jammed in the center of its forehead, though it, too, was already deceased.

She was just standing and preparing to exit the fifth house she'd checked when she heard Bain shouting.

"Da! Tauriel! Magnus!"

In the blink of an eye she was out of the cottage and running full-tilt in the direction his voice had come from.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thanks much once again for all the reads, follows, and reviews! So glad folk continue to enjoy the story. And welcome to newest reviewer Jenny-Wren28!**

* * *

Arriving just ahead of Bard and Magnus, Tauriel was the first to find Bain in what she immediately judged to be the village schoolhouse. Several desks were overturned and books had been strewn all about.

"It's all right, mate," Bain was saying as she flew through the door, with Bard and Magnus seconds behind her. "We're not going to hurt you."

He stood with his sword pointed to the floor in his right hand and held his left stretched out in a placating manner, as he attempted to calm another boy about his age who knelt on the floor brandishing a dagger…one stained with black blood.

Tauriel suspected the blood on his blade had come from the dead goblin just behind him, as he was all but covered in it. He also looked to have put up one hell of a fight, as his clothes were torn and he was bruised and bleeding, from a cut over one eye and from a split lip. With his free hand, the boy held his ribs as though they ached.

The boy's eyes jumped from Bain to the three new arrivals. "Th…that an elf?" he asked, waving the dagger in Tauriel's direction.

"I am Elf-kind," she said, keeping her voice low and her cadence even as she sheathed her knives and took a step toward the boys. " _I eneth nín_ Tauriel."

The boy blinked. "I don't know…what that means."

Tauriel smiled. "I said 'My name is Tauriel'," she said, taking another step. "And what are you called?"

"A-Aldus. Son of Eldon." He looked to the men behind her. "Who are they?"

She had walked slowly, cautiously closer during the exchange, and was now abreast of Bain. Lifting a hand to his shoulder, she said, "This is Bain, son of Bard. The one in the blue coat behind me is his father, Bard, who is now Lord in Dale—"

"That's bollocks!" Aldus replied. "Everyone knows Dale…Dale's been an empty ruin…near two hundred years."

Every time he spoke his speech was halted. Tauriel studied him closely and noted that his breathing was labored, which worried her greatly.

"Aye, it was indeed, until five moons ago," Bard said as he slowly advanced, coming to a stop on Tauriel's right. "My people in Esgaroth, the city on the Long Lake, were attacked by the dragon Smaug. Our home was destroyed before I was able to bring him down with a black arrow given from father to son through my family for several generations. Those of us that survived took refuge in Dale and many decided to stay there with me. The rest are even now rebuilding Esgaroth anew."

"You really…killed a dragon?"

"He sure did," Bain said. "I was there with him when he let the black arrow fly. Sodding dragon almost took us out with him when he fell."

Aldus studied them for a moment longer, then suddenly lowered the dagger and sat back on his heels as his strength apparently gave out. He sat there breathing in uneven pants, then with surprising energy surged to his knees again and crawled over the body of the goblin behind him toward a blood-stained carpet by the raised platform at the front of the building. Aldus threw the carpet back and grabbed the large metal ring it had concealed, lifting up a trapdoor and calling down into the opening, "You can…come back out now. Help's come."

Bain sheathed his sword and moved to Aldus' side as a little boy of about five years slowly crawled out of the hole. He helped the child to his feet and then reached for the hand of another person, which turned out to be a girl who looked to be the same age as Tilda. In one arm she held a swaddled infant.

"Magnus," Bard said when he saw them. "Go back to the company and lead them down into the village square. Post guards and then lead another party to continue the search."

"Yes, my Lord," Magnus replied, bowing his head before he quickly retreated from the schoolhouse.

Tauriel offered a smile to the little ones who were huddled around Aldus. "What are your names?" she asked softly.

The younger boy ducked shyly behind the girl, who said, "I'm Erina, daughter of Enid. The boy is Beric, son of Brun, and this baby's his sister Beryl."

"I wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances, Erina," Tauriel replied. "I'm Tauriel, daughter of Lúnairien."

Bain and Bard both introduced themselves again. "How came you to survive, my young friends?" the latter asked.

"It was…crazy. Goblins ran down from the hills…last night," Aldus said. "They just… started killin' folks… tearing stuff up… setting fires."

"My mum and I were having supper with Beric's family," added Erina. "They live right next door to here. Brun thought we'd be safe in the storm shelter under the school, so he brought us over."

"My father is…was…the schoolmaster," Aldus continued. "I was helping him…paint the walls…when they came in. I was given a dagger…and told to…stay with the little ones. Then my dad…and the others…went to gather more children. They never…came back."

Erina started crying and held Beryl more tightly to her chest. The baby began to fuss, whimpering as she kicked and waved her arms.

"Come, Aldus," Bard said then. "Let us all go to the square where Tauriel can treat your wounds, and then we will take you all with us."

"Where will we go?" asked Beric, who still hid behind Erina, in a tiny voice.

"All the way back to Dale, if you like."

Aldus struggled to stand and Bain reached down to help him up. "Right now…I just want…out of this place. It stinks of goblin."

No one elected to point out that he was likely smelling himself, covered in goblin blood as he was. Tauriel turned with Bard and started for the door, with Bain and Aldus behind and the children bringing up the rear. They'd neared the exit when Aldus gave a wracking cough and Bain cried out, "Da, there's blood coming from his mouth!"

Tauriel turned in tandem with Bard and reached for Aldus as his limp body slipped from Bain's grasp. They laid him on the ground carefully as crimson spilled over his lips, a gurgling sound coming from his throat.

"Bain, take the children out to the square and join the others," Tauriel said as she began to examine Aldus' injuries more closely. His skin was clammy and cool to the touch. She found two broken ribs on his left side—the one he'd been holding—and when she put her ear to his chest there was almost no airflow. When she felt lower, she noted that his abdomen was swollen and tender to the touch.

"What's going on?" demanded Erina. "Is Aldus going to be all right?"

"Tauriel?"

The elf looked up at Bard's query and gave a minute shake of her head. Understanding dawned in his eyes and he repeated the order for Bain to take the smaller children out. It took some coaxing, but at last he was able to lead Erina and Beric away.

"Aldus has two broken ribs on the left side, which have punctured his lung," Tauriel told Bard once they had gone. "There is also much blood collected in the abdominal cavity—the punctured lung may have just happened, but he's been bleeding internally for some time."

"Can you do nothing for him?" Bard asked.

Tears sprang to her eyes and before she could blink them away, large drops rolled down her cheeks. Bard reached over and placed his hand over hers where it rested on the boy's chest. Tauriel placed her other hand on Aldus' brow and looked into his eyes, hating what she was about to tell him but knowing he deserved to hear the truth.

"Aldus, I have many talents, but I am not a healer," she said softly. "None in our company are skilled enough to stop what's coming, but I…"

She looked away from him then, biting her lip to hold a sob in check. She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud.

" _But what_?"

The words were faint, barely a whisper on the wind. Bard would not have heard him speak, but Tauriel's ears were sensitive to the slightest sound. Taking a breath to shore her nerve, she turned back to Aldus. "But I believe I can make your passing painless," she told him.

His lips moved as he tried to speak again, his voice so low that now even her keen hearing was having trouble making out his words. Those that stood out the most were "mother" and "father". She heard Bard tell him it was okay to let go, as the children were safe and his duty was done. Knowing his time was almost ended, Tauriel closed her eyes and concentrated on the brave boy who lay before her, praying that what power she possessed was truly enough to make the end painless, as she'd promised him she could.

Sometime later—she knew not how many minutes had passed—Bard touched her face, brushing away her tears with his thumb. Tauriel opened her eyes to his somber expression, finding empathy in his eyes.

"He is gone," he said simply.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _I eneth nín_ \- My name is (lit. I am called)


	20. Chapter 20

"It is so unfair," Tauriel said, "that this boy should have survived the attack only to die anyway."

"Aldus' death was not in vain, Tauriel," Bard said. "His injuries were great, yet he held onto life long after the remaining goblin attackers had fled from this day's rising sun—just enough time to ensure that the three children he had sworn to protect were saved. His sacrifice ensured they would have a future."

Tauriel nodded and looked down at Aldus' still face. "He was a very brave young man indeed."

She leaned over then and placed a kiss on the boy's brow. When she sat back again, she breathed a deep sigh and wiped at her face. "We should go now. Our people are waiting for us."

Bard nodded solemnly and stood, then offered her his hand. She took it and rose to her feet, holding onto his reassuring warmth for just a moment before she knelt down and lifted Aldus into her arms. Silently they made their way out to the village square where most of the company was gathered. Erina began to sob at the sight of them, throwing herself into Halia's arms.

Gudmund walked over from the fore of the group and said quietly, "Sire, I think we should do something for these poor souls."

"We will," said Bard. His gaze roamed over the company as he added in a louder voice, "The people of Savis have the right of a dignified burial, and we shall give it to them. This boy—no doubt like all the folk of this town—was a brave and noble young man. He was Aldus, son of Eldon, and he gave his last in defense of three children not of his blood. No greater honor can be found than in making the ultimate sacrifice to save the innocent."

As Tauriel laid Aldus on the ground, Bard gave an order to the men not on guard duty to begin digging a pit wherein the townspeople could be buried together. He then called for volunteers to go through the town to collect the bodies of the slain. Bain and Tauriel he took with him to gather the goblin corpses, of which there were but 20 in all. Those they piled in the schoolhouse—a fitting irony, Bain noted, given it was the place of their defeat—and set the building on fire.

By the time the mass grave had been dug and the villagers laid to their final rest, twilight had descended. It was then decided that the company would continue on to the other side of Savis, essentially putting the tragic, trying day behind them, to set up camp for the night.

* * *

As many of the weary travelers were settling into their bedrolls, Bard called a meeting and included every adult not assigned to the night's watch. The purpose, he told them, was to come to an accord as to what would be done with Erina, Beric, and Beryl.

"While I could certainly just make a decision," he said, "I desire to hear all opinions. You may speak freely."

"You said there's another settlement downriver aways?" Gudmund asked. At Bard's nod, he said, "Well, oughtn't we ask there if any of 'em's kin to the little ones? It's only right they should go to the only family they got left."

"And if they've got none, I'll take 'em," Halia spoke up.

Bard turned to her as she said, "I know I've got me duties in the manor, sire, but those children need a mother—especially that wee babe. I've got a few good years left in me, and I'll be honest and say that though he was grown I've been missing being mam to my boy these five months. Been missing Halid something fierce, I have. And I knew there was a reason that I came on this journey. Those children are it. I'll find us another place to live if you'd rather I not have them in the manor; Dale's still got plenty of empty—"

Her flow of words were stopped when Bard put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Halia, my dear lady, I would not cast you out because you desire to care for these children. You know well that I feel the manor is too large for my family, so I declare it would be a delight to have more life within those walls."

Halia's eyes filled with tears even as she smiled. She then surprised everyone by throwing her arms around and hugging him fiercely. "You really are a great man, sire. Thank you."

Bard returned her embrace warmly. Tauriel smiled when he glanced her way for a moment, before he held Halia away from him and told her, "Do not thank me yet, dear lady. We may yet find they have family in Halken."

With a consensus reached, he then advised everyone to head for their bedrolls. Tauriel turned to go as well, but she stopped when he reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Don't go yet," he said.

She returned immediately to his side, lacing her fingers through his as she stood close to him. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I am better with you by my side," he replied. For a moment he said nothing else, and then, "So many dead for no reason at all—innocent people who minded their own and bothered no one. And what happened to all the animals? Surely there were livestock—we had livestock in Lake-town, for goodness' sake." He snorted softly and shook his head. "You were right, you know, when you said it wasn't fair."

A sigh escaped him then. "One would think that, after the battle last year and having seen so much death and desecration then, I would not be so bothered by what we witnessed today."

"That you are so bothered is but proof that you are a man of compassion, Bard. Were you to be indifferent to the suffering of others, I would be concerned for you."

Bard scoffed. "You mean if I were to be as cold as your king." It was not a question, but a statement.

Tauriel nodded. "In his defense, Thranduil has in his long life seen much death, and he has suffered a great personal loss. However, I believe that recent events have shown him that there is an even greater need for change. He confessed to me that he desired to care for others, but that because he has isolated himself from the ills of the world around his lands for so long, he has forgotten how to do so."

"He said something similar to me," Bard said. "Something about having perfected his 'particular brand of arrogance' over thousands of years."

"Indeed he has," she conceded with a mirthless chuckle.

Both breathed a sigh, and when Tauriel rested her head on his shoulder, a measure of peace returned to Bard's heart. He was content to remain standing with her that way for some time, but eventually his own fatigue strengthened its hold on him, and he was forced to admit that he needed sleep.

"As much as I am loath to take leave of your most excellent company," he said, earning a soft chuckle from his companion, "the land of dreams calls to me."

Tauriel looked up at him, studying his face. She must have seen how very tired he suddenly felt, for she raised a hand to lay it gently to his cheek and said, "Go then, _meleth nín_ , and take your rest."

Bard blinked in surprise—she had just called him "my love" in Sindarin. For a moment, Tauriel seemed just as stunned at having said it. But then she smiled, and stood up on her toes to kiss him.

* * *

The company started their march early the next day in a somber mood. What they had seen in Savis was a stark reminder that the world around them was full of evil, that even the most innocent of beings could be sundered by the most foul. There was little conversation as they resumed their usual steady pace, and what words were said were softly spoken.

Halia took charge of the three orphans straight away. They had slept in her tent and she had made sure they had plenty to eat. Erina professed to having no appetite at all, but she'd eventually relented to at least eating an apple. For Beryl, Halia boiled a couple of potatoes and some dried meat and carrots, making the baby a mash she could easily consume once they were soft enough. The infant, who was considered peaceful and a darling by all who observed her, ate with enthusiasm. Her older brother took his food without quarrel, but had refused to speak since the day before.

The sun was reaching its zenith when in the distance the leaders of the party spotted a most welcome visage—a small farm on the outskirts of Halken, where a man was releasing six large draft horses into a paddock. When he took notice of them he gave a hearty wave and started in their direction.

"Hail, travelers!" he said when he was in shouting distance.

Bard raised a hand to return the wave. "Greetings, friend!" he called out. "'Tis a fair weather day, is it not?"

"Indeed so, sir," said the man as he came upon them at last. He glanced along the column, his eyes widening a little at the sight of an elf and dwarves among them, then returned his penetrating gaze to Bard.

"Been a while since I've seen so large a party come down the Great River. Did you happen to pass through the village of Savis back that way? My brother Eldon lives there with his son, I wonder if you might—Oi, where are my manners? I am Alton, son of Aldo. You are brightly greeted, friends."

Bard glanced at Tauriel on his right, and then Gudmund on his left, before he took Alton's outstretched hand in his and shook it. "I am Bard, son of Galen, and Lord of the restored city of Dale," he replied. "I regret that I must make your acquaintance with dark tidings on my lips."

Alton froze, his animated expression becoming worried as he asked, "What do you mean? Did something happen in Savis?"

"I am sorry, Alton. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you Savis is no more. The village was sacked by goblins two nights past."

The man before them fell hard to his knees, dropping his face into his hands as he sobbed his brother's name. Bard knelt down and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Alton, I grieve with you deeply for your loss. What we found was a sight I would wish for no man to see. But even in your grief, I pray you would see some light also—a young man I suspect was the son of your brother obeyed his father's last command and took watch over three young children. He engaged a goblin armed with only a dagger and he won, though the price was heavy. He passed yesterday in the late afternoon, but not before being assured by our coming that his charges were safe."

Alton looked up at him. "You saw Aldus?"

Bard nodded. "Aye. Even in his mast minutes he held his weapon high, and not until he was certain we meant no harm did he lower it. His death was most honorable."

A ragged sigh escaped the man. "He was a good lad, my nephew," Alton said with a sad smile. "You say Aldus saved some children?"

"He did indeed, sir," added Tauriel. "They are Beric, son of Brun, and his infant sister Beryl, as well as Erina, daughter of Enid."

Alton frowned. "I'm afraid I do not know those names. I did not visit Savis as much as I should have, it would seem. Most of my family—save for my wife and children, my wife's two sisters and their families, and my brother and his boy—lives west of the Misty Mountains. Although we often did trade with those folk, the people of Halken and Savis for the most part kept to ourselves."

After taking another deep breath, Alton indicated he wanted to stand. Bard stood and moved back and the former wiped his face as he got to his feet.

"I'm sorry to have fallen apart there. As you can imagine, the news you have imparted wounds me deeply."

"No apology is necessary, my friend," Bard assured him. "It is a heavy burden to have such news to bear."

"Truer words were never spoken," Alton said. "But now that the initial shock has passed, I bid you all welcome to Halken. Come, and bring your people. I will take you to the village council, who may know more of the families of the children."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _meleth nín_ \- my love

 **A/N:** Bain considers the goblins defeated because not everyone in Savis died, as was undoubtedly their goal.


	21. Chapter 21

Bard gave a nod, then called for the company to follow. As they passed across Alton's farm, his wife, whom he introduced as Enda, came out of the house. After he told her of the fate of Savis and his brother and nephew, she began to speak of their horses—the six they had seen were but a few, as they had twice as many females in another pasture. Bard suspected she talked of seemingly inconsequential things to take her husband's mind off his grief, and he silently commended her for it.

As they walked into the center of the village, the curious naturally joined the group, and by the time they reached the town hall, a large crowd had gathered. Alton told his wife not to speak yet of Savis, that the council should be the ones to deliver the news. Her nod of agreement appeared reluctant, and Bard was left to wonder if she'd be able to keep her word as Alton led himself, Tauriel, Gudmund and Halia into the hall to speak with the town council.

"Can't rightly say as I know if the young'uns got folk here in Halken," said Peder, the senior councilman, after introductions were made and Bard had recounted their story and told them of the fate of their neighbors. "As Alton may well have told you, though we did trade with Savis on occasion, both villages mostly looked to our own."

"I remember you," said Peri, one of the two female council members. Pointing her finger at Bard, she added, "'Tis faintly, to be sure, but you look mighty familiar."

Bard offered her a polite smile. "You may perhaps be thinking of my father, whom I have long been told I resemble a great deal. He traveled here regularly in my youth peddling mussels. I only joined him but once, as the trade was not to my liking."

"Yes, that's it! I knew the name Galen was familiar to me. Oh, how I miss those mussels. It's a shame he stopped coming—does he still live?"

"Sadly no," Bard replied with a shake of his head. "My father passed twelve summers ago."

"And you are Lord in Dale, you said?" Peri pressed. He nodded. "I seem to recall Galen once sharing a tale about a dragon that drove his people from their ancestral home, and I'm certain that's the name of the city."

"Indeed it was—and now that same dragon is dead by my own hand," Bard told her.

Peder cleared his throat and Peri sat back, looking chagrined. "If your father traveled here regular, Lord Bard, then he may well have told you that both Halken and Savis were founded by free men from west of the Misty Mountains. We both have ties to villages such as Bakerton and Bree, among others, and though we'll certainly ask the townsfolk to be sure, if there's none here who can claim kinship to the children, that's where you're like to find some."

Bard glanced at the three who had accompanied him. "Unfortunately, our journey will not be taking us through the mountains," he said slowly. "Although in years to come some of my people may travel there, time and need prevent us from doing so now."

"It is understandable that you desire to return to your people as soon as you are able," Peder said with a nod. "The goal you have set for yourselves is remarkable, and I have no doubt a great many will join you in Dale in years to come."

"What of the children?" asked another man on the council. "If you'll not go into the west in search of kin, and there are none here in Halken, what's to become of them?"

Bard gestured to Halia. "This good lady has already declared she will care for them if there are no kin in Halken. She has already reared a son to manhood, and so I know she will treat them as her own."

At that, Peder nodded again. "Peri, kindly go and announce to the people that there will be a general meeting in the square in one hour."

Peri smiled lightly as she stood. "I have little doubt we shall have to wait that long. Bard's company will already have drawn the curious."

She was not far from the mark—only a handful of runners had to be sent to far homes in the village, as word had spread quickly that a company of strangers that included an elf and three dwarves had come into town. The people of Halken were deeply saddened by the fate of their neighbors, and many expressed concern for their town's welfare. Peder ordered the border guard doubled in an effort to reassure them. When the children were discussed, there were none who claimed kinship with their families, but several expressed knowledge of them, saying that Brun and his wife, and Erina's mother Enid, were good, kind people.

A young couple who had lost a child to stillbirth over the winter expressed an interest in adopting Beryl, but did not feel they were ready to take on the challenge of an older child, even though Beric counted five years and Erina was old enough to help around the house. Yet another couple expressed their interest in taking in Beric, but didn't want another baby in the house as they already had one that was younger than Beryl. Halia then argued that Beric and Beryl should not be separated as they were the only known family left to each other. Thus it was decided that they, along with Erina, would stay with her after all.

After the children's welfare was decided, matters then turned to business—the first order of which was where the company could set up their camp. Alton generously volunteered his farm, to which Bard heartily agreed. The matter of their food supply was then discussed, especially the shortage of good bread. Several families joined the village baker in offering to make more for the next stage of their journey.

Halia, now having the responsibility of the children, announced her desire to purchase a wagon and at least one horse. Alton again stepped up, offering to sell her one or more of his stock. Councilwoman Peri said she had a wagon she was willing to sell that had the added bonus of a cover, much to Halia's delight. In the end she was able to negotiate a fair price for it, and not one but two of Alton's horses, as the wagon was so large it would need two to pull it. The size of it also meant more space to carry goods for others in the company if need be.

Bard was relieved that it appeared trade would go well in Halken despite the terrible news he'd had to deliver. He wondered briefly what good his people's gold and silver would do the townsfolk without Savis to do business with, but reasoned they would either begin trading with Rohan and Gondor, possibly even the Elves in Lothlórien, or they would trek back through the mountains and spend it in the towns of their kinsfolk.

When trade was done that afternoon, the people of Halken invited the company to join them for a feast. A toast was to be made in memory of their fallen neighbors, but first more meat would be required. So it was that ten skilled hunters from Halken and Bard's company, in two groups of five, went into the woods of the surrounding foothills in the hopes of finding a couple of deer or wild hogs to supplement the stores of dried meat.

Bard and Tauriel were among the hunters, with Alton, Magnus, and Peri in their group. The five had not gone far when the elf drew her bow and pinned two rabbits to the ground in quick succession. The others stared in wonder as she retrieved her arrows and secured the pair to her belt.

"What?" she queried. "The hides will be of use to Halia, for Beryl at least if not the other two."

Bard conceded her point with a grin and the party moved on. The sounds of the village faded behind them and the only noises they heard were their soft footfalls and the rustle of leaves as tree branches swayed in the breeze, and here and there a trill of birdsong. Suddenly Tauriel again stilled, this time dropping low to the ground. Bard scanned the surrounding area but saw nothing to cause alarm.

" _Man cenich_?" he asked in Sindarin.

She pointed to a faint depression in the ground in front of her. It was in the shape of a boot, and not one like his people wore, nor like any he'd seen on the feet of the Halkenites. He cursed softly as he studied it for not having noticed it himself.

"What is it?" Peri asked.

Bard turned to her. "Ere I say aloud what I believe, tell me if your people have been in these woods of late?" Something told him he was not mistaken, nor certainly was Tauriel, but he felt compelled to ask nonetheless.

The councilwoman looked to Alton, who shrugged. "It is entirely possible some have come this way to hunt, but I cannot say that I know for sure," the farmer replied.

Peri turned back to Bard. "Why do you ask?" she pressed.

"Because, my Lady," Tauriel said as she stood. "That is a footprint…and it was made by a goblin."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Man cenich_? _-_ What do you see?


	22. Chapter 22

The group of hunters continued on, though each was more wary. More evidence of goblin activity became clear to Bard the further they went, now that he was on the lookout for it.

Whether it was the same band that had sacked Savis or not, there was little doubt in his mind that Halken had recently been under surveillance. He considered for a moment the wisdom of continuing on with the company that night, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. First, traveling at night would pose more of a danger than it would prevent. Secondly, if the village were indeed in danger from goblins, he could not in good conscience abandon them in their hour of need.

By the time all ten of the hunting party had returned, they had between them felled three good-sized deer and two hogs in addition to Tauriel's rabbits. Bard spoke in hushed tones with Peder about shoring up Halken's security while the animals were quickly skinned and hoisted up on spits over great fires. Their skins were cleaned and given rightly to the hunter whose arrows had brought them down, and having no need of it herself, Tauriel gave the boar skin she received to Halia along with the rabbit furs. She kept a pair of one rabbit's feet for herself, as they were said to bring good luck.

Delicious smells soon filled the village square, and the people chattered good-naturedly as they set up tables, laying down linens, dishes, and utensils along with crockery filled with vegetables, fruit and other sides to go with their meal. In spite of the general merriment, however, the tracks in the woods had left a heavy pall on Bard's mind. Though the food set before him was flavorful he found he could not truly enjoy it. His attention constantly strayed, his eyes roaming around for signs of danger.

"Bard, relax, won't you?" Tauriel said softly.

"Nay, I cannot," he replied. "A shadow of foreboding has grown on my mind since we came upon the goblin tracks in the woods."

She turned to him. "We do not know if they will come here. If as you say the Savisians had livestock, then it would seem obvious the goblins took them for food. They'll have no need to attack Halken."

"Do you truly believe that?" Bard countered. "Since when have you known goblins to operate on logic?"

"A valid observation," Tauriel conceded. "Though I pray your fears are not justified."

As she turned back to her meal, a cry rang out, and another voice shouted " _Goblins!_ " as the square suddenly burst into chaos.

Women and children screamed as growling, jaw-snapping goblins poured into the village from all directions. As he drew his sword, Bard shouted for Magnus, Gudmund, and Bain to gather all the women and children and take them to the town hall, where they were to barricade the door. While he spoke, Tauriel had leapt from her chair and over their table, quickly taking down one and then another goblin with her arrows.

Bard tried to keep his eye on her even as he lopped the head off of one goblin and then ran his sword through another. But it was impossible to keep track of her—she was almost too fast for the eye to follow. When a goblin's blade sliced into his forearm, he was reminded as he killed it that he was in a fight for his life and could not afford for his attention to be divided. If he could trust his son and his men to see that the women and children were safe, then he needed to trust Tauriel to take care of herself. She was a trained warrior who had survived the perils of her home for more than six hundred years, after all.

The goblins didn't stand a chance, he thought with a smirk on his face, and threw himself into the fray.

Many minutes went by in which Bard dealt one fatal strike after another. Some of the goblins he had to punch or kick, but either way they were struck down, and there was not one he encountered that did not meet his sword. The men of Halken were impressively holding their own—even Councilman Peder, who was nearly twice his age. The number of goblins tearing about seemed to be less than the last time he'd taken stock, so Bard took advantage of the lull to locate Tauriel.

His eyes fixed on her about 100 feet from where he stood. She had climbed up on a rooftop—likely to use the advantage of height to strike the enemy down with her bow—though was now using her knives to fight a heavily muscled goblin wielding an axe. Bard noted with sudden alarm that it was driving her toward the edge.

Determined to aid her, he ran for the shop, plowing through any goblins that had the misfortune of getting in his way.

* * *

The roof of a nearby shop had seemed the perfect vantage point to Tauriel, and it had been…until she'd run out of arrows with which to take the goblins down. She'd been about to jump down and join the fight on the ground when she heard a snarl behind her.

"Bit far from home aren't you, _elf_?"

She pulled her knives even as she turned to face the owner of the gravelly voice. It was a thickly-built goblin with a heavy battle axe in his hands. "So are you, filth," she returned snidely. "Allow me to help you back into the foul pit that spawned you!"

Tauriel charged with a yell and the fight was on. They moved around the roof in a macabre dance, each trying their hardest to kill the other one first. She noted after a minute or two that the goblin was trying to drive her to the edge; in that moment she also detected the acrid tang of smoke in the air. After aiming a vicious kick to her opponent's head, she spared a glance downward and caught sight of a goblin running from the shop on which she stood to the next building with a torch in his hand.

"Look at that, wretch," she taunted her foe. "Even your friends are trying to kill you."

"You're going to burn up right along with me, _suka_ ," the goblin sneered, then charged at her with his axe held high over his head.

Tauriel needed only a second to calculate when she would have to move to avoid being hit. Twirling her knives in her hands, she thought to drive them into the back of the goblin's skull as he passed her; she side-stepped and he brought his weapon down.

Too late did she realize what the force of the swing would do to the roof beam she was standing on—as she lifted her arms to strike the fatal blow, she heard a loud crack, and suddenly found herself falling into the burning building beneath her feet.

" _Tauriel!_ "

Bard screaming her name registered as she dropped unceremoniously through splintered wood and roof thatching. Her face and hands were scratched and her clothing torn as it caught on the edges of the hole, and she landed painfully hard on top of the goblin who'd sent them crashing through the roof. The searing pain in her right side told her she'd made contact with something sharp, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. The goblin had broken a table when he'd landed, but he wasn't out of commission.

Twisting her body, she prepared to flip off of the creature, but he caught her ankle and brought it toward his mouth with the clear intention of taking a chunk out of her leg. She stomped her other foot straight into his nose once, twice, and he let her go with a snarl. They both pushed to their feet at the same time, and she had but a moment to catch her breath before he stepped up on the fallen roof timbers and launched himself at her.

The weight of the goblin knocked her back into a piece of furniture and she lost her balance. Tauriel grabbed onto her attacker in order to take him down with her and they rolled to the floor. She managed to land on top and threw a punch to the goblin's face. In retaliation, he brought his armored knee up into her left side. She cried out, and he used her moment of distraction to shift his weight, rolling until she was now the one pinned.

Even though the shop was on fire and more of the roof was now coming down around them, the goblin was not dissuaded from his goal—she could tell from the look in his eyes as he wrapped his hands around her throat that he intended to see her dead, even if he died killing her. She bucked her hips as she pulled at his wrists, trying to unseat the dark creature as her air was cut off completely and darkness teased her mind.

A wild yell sounded in her ears a heartbeat before the goblin's grip loosened. Tauriel drew a painful breath as she watched his head roll clean off his shoulders, spurting black blood into the air and onto her face and clothes…and then Bard was there, shoving the goblin's body to the floor. He kicked it out of the way and knelt next to her, his eyes roaming over her as he checked for injuries.

"By the stars!" he declared as his eyes widened in alarm, his hand going to her right side. Tauriel looked to where his gaze had fallen to find a piece of metal—possibly a broken piece of the goblin's armor—sticking out of her side through her vest.

"I'll be fine," she assured him as she reached for it and pulled it out with her own hand, yelling loudly at the pain. She glanced at the tip and saw only about an inch with blood on it, the thick leather armor she wore having kept it from going any further.

"I'll be fine," she repeated, coughing as she pressed her hand to the wound.

"We shall see, my darling," he said, then reached under her back to help her up.

Tauriel put her arm across his shoulders and held on, wincing and failing to keep from crying out as she stood.

"Who picked whom up from the ground this time?" Bard joked, then immediately jerked her out of the way of a collapsing roofing timber.

"So now we're even," Tauriel retorted drily, searching the floor for her fighting knives. She didn't see them. "Might we get out of here before we're burned alive, please?"

"Your wish is my command," he replied.

Bard led her toward the door, where the front wall of the structure was now completely engulfed in flames. Tauriel couldn't help wondering how he'd gotten inside without catching fire, and looked at him with awe.

He returned her gaze as they neared the only opening either could see through the thick smoke. "We're going to have to make a run for it," he said with a cough.

Tauriel nodded, and after taking another choking breath, they ran for the door together.

* * *

 **Black Speech:**

 _suka_ \- bitch (Actually Russian, as I could find no source for Black Speech, but wanted to use it; Russian had to substitute)


	23. Chapter 23

The scene around them was disturbingly familiar—men, women, and children crying over the dead; some shouting the names of persons unaccounted for; others still running to and fro, seemingly without purpose.

In another word: chaos.

Tauriel, against Bard's wishes, had refused immediate treatment other than packing a wad of clean cloth over her wound, held tight to her side by her vest. She was injured, yes, but she had not been rendered immobile. The bleeding from the cut caused by the broken metal shard had lessened, and there was much work to be done. For the last hour, she had been helping tend the other wounded.

There were losses among the company as well as the Halkenites. Though the loss of even a single life was devastating, there was a muted sense of relief among the travelers that theirs were much less than their hosts: only three of their number had fallen, while the village had lost eleven of its citizens.

"We're all very lucky," Peder said to Bard as he surveyed the damage to his village. "It could have been far worse."

"Indeed, sir," Bard replied. "I grieve with you the loss of your kin."

"And I you," the elder gentleman returned, then his expression fell. "To think just how much worse it would have been if that rancid creature had reached the hall…"

"On that, my friend, you should not dwell," Tauriel said as she stepped up to the pair. She ignored Bard's look of concern that she was holding her side. "Instead, commend yourself on your most excellent aim."

Taking a deep breath, Peder nodded, no doubt recalling the moment he had sighted the torch-wielding goblin heading for the town hall…where Bard had ordered the women and children be sequestered for their protection. With a speed and accuracy belying his advancing age, Halken's senior councilman had thrown his sword across half the town square, skewering the goblin firebug straight through its head. Bard and Tauriel had witnessed the heroic act as they were running out of the burning shop.

With their fire-starting comrade down, the remaining goblins had soon given up the fight and retreated into the hills. The Men on their feet immediately set about putting fires out and tending to the wounded. When the women and children had been released from the town hall, that's when pandemonium broke out.

"You did this!" screamed a woman who ran up to Bard and pounded her fists against his chest. "You brought this hell upon us, and now my husband is dead!"

"Tena, calm yourself," Peder pleaded as he pulled her away.

"Bard didn't do this!" cried Dorna, who was nearby helping Peri treat wounded villagers. "The goblins would no doubt have attacked Halken whether we were here or not. You cannot blame our Lord for something that would have happened anyway!"

"She is correct my dear," Peder said softly as he wrapped his arms around the distraught woman. "With or without their presence, the goblins would have come. We have dealt with them before, we will do so again."

"So you will stay here then?" Bard asked.

Peder nodded as another woman came and led Tena away. "Why would we move? This is our home, Lord Bard. Our forefathers no doubt knew the risks when they settled here nearly a century past. I and mine will not easily give up this place. Not without a fight."

As the two men spoke, Tauriel turned to Dorna. "Thank you, Dorna."

The other woman looked at her. "What for?"

"For showing your support of Bard," the elf said. "He will have need of those who believe in him as the journey continues and the cities are rebuilt."

Dorna smiled sweetly. "I've known Bard for many years. Always knew he would make for a fine leader, if only he'd take the chance. So I can do nothing, really, but be there for him when he has need of me."

"I am sure he will appreciate the confidence you have in him," Tauriel told her. "I'm glad to see you are better, by the way."

"Whatever do you mean?" Dorna asked with a frown.

"Your ankle—you are able to stand and walk on it now."

"Oh, that!" Dorna replied with a laugh. "How silly of me to forget. Yes, I can stand and walk, thank goodness. It is better for the rest I gave it at Bard's insistence."

"Speaking of my insistence," Bard cut in, stepping over to stand between the two. "I _insist_ you get that looked at now."

He pointed to Tauriel's side as he spoke, and she noted again his concern.

"Bard, there are many more to treat who are injured worse than I," she pointed out. "Besides, _meleth nín_ , I see that you have sought no treatment for yourself."

At the last, she reached for his injured arm and held it up to look at it. Peeling the sleeve away from where a goblin's blade had cut it, she saw that beneath the dried blood it had already become inflamed.

"An infection will set in if we do not get this treated immediately!" Tauriel said sharply.

Bard touched her face, saying nothing until she looked at him. "So might yours, don't you think?" he chided softly.

A smirk eased onto her face. "Actually, no. Elves are not so prone to infection as are Edain."

"Well, I implore you to indulge my foolish concern just the same," Bard said.

"Come and be seen with me, that both of us then might be satisfied," she challenged him.

He grinned, and then said, "I bow to your wisdom."

* * *

It was past midnight by the time the fires were put out, the goblins cleared from the village, the wounded were treated and the dead buried. All retired to their beds with heavy hearts, and it was a somber mood still when Bard's company bade farewell to the people of Halken the following morning. Their mood remained much the same for the rest of the day, and for the next two that followed.

On the evening of the third day, Bard took a moment to observe the company as they set up camp for the night. He could see that the people still carried about them a sense of moroseness, and he wondered what to do about it.

Minutes later, as he kindled a fire in front of his family's tents, he saw Gudmund approach Tauriel out of the corner of his eye. Their voices were low enough that he could not make out the words, but the furtive glances the younger man directed his way made it clear to Bard that he was the subject of their conversation. He turned back to his task, wondering how long it would be until he learned the details.

"…worst he can do is say no," he heard just as the fire took, and turned his head again to find Tauriel and Gudmund walking toward him. He stood as they came to a stop.

"Something I can do for you?" Bard asked casually.

Gudmund glanced nervously at Tauriel, who gave him an encouraging nod. Swallowing heavily, he looked back and said, "My Lord, I am concerned about the company, their state of mind. I think… Well, with everything that's happened in the last few days, I really think we could all use a day off."

Bard's brow rose. "A day off?" he repeated, glancing at Tauriel and finding only a smile on her countenance.

"Yes!" Gudmund said. "I know you've a timetable in mind for the journey, sire, and I completely agree with it. I just think it would be of great benefit if we had a day here and there with no marching. Just a day to relax and maybe take care of all the little things we can't while traveling, like mending socks or…whatever."

He had just been wondering about what he could do for his people to lift their spirits—and one of those same people had just given him the answer, Bard mused. He could not help but laugh with relief as he clapped a hand to Gudmund's shoulder.

"My friend, you are absolutely right," he told him. "Tomorrow we shall stay right here and take a day of rest. Go ahead and spread the word."

Gudmund's grin was ecstatic. "Thank you, sire. You are most generous!"

"And Gudmund?" Bard called out as Esgaroth's deputy mayor turned to do as directed. He turned back expectantly.

"In the future, please do not fear to come to me with any idea or concern that occurs to you. You are the chosen deputy of the Lord of Esgaroth, and you must have confidence in yourself and your ideals—for clearly Percy does."

The expression on Gudmund's face sobered and he nodded, then turned away to deliver the news to the rest of the people.

"I think you handled that quite well," Tauriel remarked as they watched him go.

"If Percy didn't trust his judgment, he would not be here," Bard replied. "As he does, so must I. Gudmund is still young, however, and just needs to have more confidence in himself. As it is, he is right—the company could use a day, at the very least, to recover from all we have seen and done in the last few."

"So could you, I daresay."

Bard reached over and pulled her close. "My darling, so long as I have you and my children by my side, I could go on for several days yet."

"Yes, but even the great Bard the Bowman is like to drop from exhaustion at the end of those days," Tauriel chided even as she returned his embrace. "To that end, I say we eat our supper and retire early."

Looking down at her, Bard gave her a brilliant smile. "Indeed. The sooner we're abed, the earlier we will rise…and the more hours we'll have on the morrow to simply enjoy one another's company."

* * *

Learning they would not have to march the next day brought an almost palpable sense of relief to the travelers. They took to their bedrolls eager to spend the next day relaxing.

Dorna intended to spend the next day planning—or at least, trying to come up with one. So far she'd seen no way to drive a wedge between Bard and Tauriel. They were almost constantly by each other's side, so she'd had no further chances to work her magic on the man. If only she could get him alone…

Of course, the fighting and deaths in Halken had been trying on everyone. Even Dorna mourned the losses from their company—especially Anij, who had been a friend of hers. But she had always hated crying because it made her eyes red and puffy and caused her nose to run like a waterfall. _So_ unattractive. Dreaming of herself as Bard's wife, dressed in finer clothes than she'd ever owned with the crown of a queen on her head, was the perfect distraction from missing one of her closest confidants.

Now if there were just some way to get rid of that damned elf.


	24. Chapter 24

The morning after their day of respite saw the company rising with renewed vigor. Though still saddened by the deaths of their kin, they were once more eager to be underway, for surely the journey would show them more delights than sorrows.

Just as Bard was preparing to call the march, Tauriel turned and looked over her shoulder. "Bard," she said, drawing his attention. He looked back and noticed in the distance behind them a figure coming up fast on horseback.

"Unless my eyes deceive me, that is Councilwoman Peri from Halken," Tauriel observed.

They walked together, joined by Gudmund, toward the back of the column to await the rider's arrival. As the figure drew closer they saw that it was indeed Peri. She drew to a stop a few feet before them and dismounted, her breath coming in short pants.

"Thank the stars!" she said, bending and holding her knees as she fought to catch her breath. "I thought I might never have caught up with you."

"You might well be in pursuit still had we not taken a day of rest yesterday," Bard told her. "Pray, why have you come in search of our company?"

Peri stood straight, and taking a last deep breath, she flashed a wide smile. "I came to offer my services, Lord Bard. You could use a sharp mind by your side."

Bard shared a bemused look with both Tauriel and Gudmund. "Could I now?" he queried. "Dear lady, I implore you to enlighten me as to why you believe that to be true."

"First, let me ask you this: Do you have advisors?"

Bard raised an eyebrow. "There are people I trust and turn to for counsel, yes—two of them stand at my side before you. The third is keeping watch over our cities until the company's return."

"It's a good start, to be sure," Peri began, "but two of those, by your own words, will be the keepers of a whole other city. As Dale is reborn and the time of your coronation draws near—and surely for some time after—you will need with you someone who is well-versed in the politics of leadership."

"And you think that person is you?" Bard countered. "It has been my understanding that I was doing a fair job of leading my people, as no one's complained to my knowledge. So why would I be in need of such services as you offer?"

Peri shot him a look. "Have you ever run a city before—let alone a kingdom?"

A smile broke out on Bard's face and he bowed his head. "A point well made, madam. This is my first endeavor at taking charge of an entire city."

"And he's a natural at it!" Gudmund declared. "From the day he brought the dragon down, Bard here took control without being asked. He didn't want to be our Master, but still he took the lead—"

"Master Gudmund, forgive me," Peri broke in. "I mean no disrespect. Even from our brief acquaintance I have seen that your Lord is a wise and just man."

"Then why are you here?"

"Gudmund," Bard admonished lightly.

Peri smiled. "It's quite all right, Lord Bard. My point is that while he may be a natural and capable leader for your people, he is going to need some help. Being a leader entails so much more than just telling people what to do."

She looked to Bard then. "I'd very much like to help you, sir."

"What about your kin in Halken?" Tauriel asked.

With a sigh, Peri said, "Peder is sorry to lose me, to be sure, and so some of our people will be. But this duty has called to me since your departure. I cannot explain it, but I am compelled to do this service. That is, if you will have me."

Bard considered her words and was forced to admit that she had a point. With Percy and Gudmund in Esgaroth, he would need to surround himself with people whose counsel he could trust in Dale. Tauriel as an advisor was a given, but who else was he close to?

He would definitely have to give the matter much due thought throughout the remainder of the journey. In the meantime, what of the offer laid before him now? Peri had told him during the feast that she'd been on the town council in Halken for the last ten years. She knew what it took to run a city—how to manage funds, settle disputes, arrange security… Any advice she could give him was sure to be invaluable.

"Madam, it was my hope before this journey was undertaken that we would meet with others willing to join our communities. That you have come so far in so short a time for the purpose of offering your guidance is a remarkable show of dedication to your purpose."

"In other words," Tauriel added with a smile, "you are most welcome. _Mae g'ovannen_ , Peri."

Peri's face lit up and she smiled broadly. Taking her horse's lead in hand, she said, "All right then! Where are we off to first, my Lord?"

Bard laughed. "First we must make it across the Gladden River and the marshes to the south of it. From there we march to Lothlórien."

Her expression changed to one of wonder. "Oh! I've heard tell of the Golden Wood. I can hardly believe I'm actually going to be seeing it for myself!"

"Then I say we hasten our departure, that we might both set our eyes on those magnificent trees much sooner," Bard suggested, and turned again toward the front of the company.

"Lead the way, sire!" Peri said, and followed eagerly with her horse in tow.

* * *

Crossing the Gladden River, a tributary of the Anduin flowing east from the Misty Mountains, was easier than the crossing of the Anduin itself. Though all but the youngest children crossed on foot as before, the water was not nearly as deep as the shallows around Carrock. Where they crossed, none got wet above the waist, and though the water had been chilly and their wet clothes cumbersome, they elected to press on instead of stopping to change like they had the first time.

The Gladden Fields, a wide swath of marshland south of the river, was another story. The horses, wagons, and even some of the people got stuck several times. A few fell and were further soaked. The difficulties in traveling through the wet, mucky soil of the fields combined with a heavy downfall of rain about halfway through the crossing made for foul dispositions throughout the company.

Although it was still early evening when they made it out of the marsh at last, Bard called for camp to be made. It was clear the company was relieved by how quickly they set up their tents. Makeshift screens were constructed so that those who needed it could go down to the river and bathe in private. The women and girls went first, and then the men and boys, and by the time the latter returned food was warming over open fires. This served to lighten everyone's darkened spirits.

At one point, Bard withdrew from the fire before his family's tents, returning moments later with a piece of parchment. Tauriel recognized it as a map of Middle-earth.

"If I am reading this correctly," he said when he rejoined her and the children, "we ought catch sight of the northern border of Lothlórien shortly past midday."

Tauriel leaned over to look at the map herself. "I agree. If our pace is not slowed by more rain, we might even reach the border before nightfall."

"I can hardly wait!" said Tilda. "I'm ever so excited to meet more elves!"

"I'm with you there, child," said Peri, who had joined them for supper. "Will they be much different than your kinfolk, Tauriel?"

"Indeed they will be, or so I have heard," Tauriel told her. "I've not met the Lothlórien Elves myself, but I've heard tell of them. It is said that they are very regal in their bearing. Mirkwood Elves are fine of character, to be sure, but there are always differences from one group of persons to the next, even when they share ancestry. My people might well be considered…rougher…than our Lothlórien kinfolk."

"They are more refined, you say?" Bard asked.

She nodded. "I've only heard stories, mind you. All of my life until… well, until five moons ago, I'd never left the woods of my home before."

"And now look at you," Sigrid said with a smile. "You're going on a great journey, experiencing many new things, and joining a family. You must be so excited!"

Tauriel looked around the fire at the faces before her: Bard, his children, Peri. She tilted her head to look up at the stars for a moment, and then her gaze fell once more on Bard, who took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. A smile came to her lips then, and her chest began to swell with emotion.

"Yes, Sigrid," she said, turning to the girl at last. "I am very excited."


	25. Chapter 25

Lothlórien, the Golden Wood, loomed before them.

Spirits once again dampened from being soaked through by another rain that continued to fall nevertheless brightened. The company began to whisper among themselves, wondering how they would be received as they marched closer to trees that looked like none they had ever seen before.

"There will be scouts, no doubt," Bard remarked as they approached the northeast border.

"Naturally," Tauriel replied. "Any kingdom with wise rulers would have guardians at their borders. When we will meet with them, however, I cannot say."

"Everyone, stay close," Bard then called over his shoulder, then to Tauriel, Peri, and Gudmund, the latter two standing to his right, he asked, "Press on then? Or do we camp here—as the light has already begun to wane—so that we do not get lost in the dark of the forest?"

"My suggestion would be to camp here for the night," Peri said. "We are come to this land unannounced, and as none of our company has been here before, there is no one who could guide us in the dark."

"I must agree with Peri, my Lord," Gudmund chimed in. "As you and the captain have said, there are like to be scouts—and we don't want to be perceived as a threat, charging in all at once or anything."

Bard nodded. "It is best to approach the unknown in the light of day, when all paths are clear. So it's settled then."

He turned then and announced to the company that they were going to set up camp where they were, and present themselves to the elves in Lothlórien on the morrow. Some minutes later, as Bain was helping him set up the tent they shared, Bard was approached by Balin, Ori, and Bofur.

Noting they carried their traveling packs, he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Something I can do for you gentlemen?" he asked.

Balin glanced at the other two, then back to Bard as he said, "We'll not be going into Lothlórien with you, I'm afraid."

"Whyever not? You've known since you joined us in the valley that we meant to stop here. Why now have you changed your minds about staying with us?"

"Oh, we will return in due time," Balin said. "But the truth is, Lord Bard, that no dwarf has set foot in the Golden Wood since the time of Durin. I'm not entirely sure we would be as well received by Tauriel's kin here as we were in Mirkwood."

"But where will you go?" asked Bain.

"Moria," said Bofur.

Tauriel had come up to Bard's side as they spoke. "I thought Moria was abandoned, and now claimed by orcs and goblins and other creatures of the dark?"

Balin nodded. "So it is said, my Lady. But it won't hurt the three of us to go and have a look, see what we're up against. Who knows—maybe someday we shall reclaim those fine halls as we did the Lonely Mountain."

"Are you certain this is the path you wish to take? The company cannot wait for you, Master Balin," Bard said.

"We need only a few days, Bard. Take your time here in Lothlórien—make connections, form bonds of friendship and trade. We shall rejoin you before the company continues south," the old dwarf assured him.

Bard regarded their solemn faces. "Four days is all that I can give you," he told them at last. "By then we will have been away from Dale and Esgaroth a fortnight, and we've still a great many leagues to travel before we return home. If you do not return to this place by the light of dawn on the fifth day, I will have to move the company on without you."

The three dwarves looked at one another, then turned to Bard and nodded in unison. "Agreed. As much as I would like to look upon the golden trees… I simply think that parting for a time is what's best for all concerned," Balin said.

"What if you meet a foul end in Moria?" asked Tauriel. "What will we tell your kin in Erebor?"

"Tell them the truth," spoke up Ori. "We went to have a look and didn't come back. But you won't need to worry on that, my Lady. We'll be back."

"If you are absolutely certain, then I bid you Good Journey," the elf replied.

"Why leave now?" Bain asked. "It'll be dark in just an hour or so. Why not remain here through the night and begin your trek at dawn?"

The three dwarves chuckled. "Son, you'd be surprised how far a dwarf can walk in just an hour," Bofur said.

"If you are determined to go, I cannot stop you," Bard said. "Fare thee well, my friends, and I pray you return safely to our company."

The three dwarves bowed, then silently made their way out of the camp, heading toward the mountains not too far in the distance. Bard watched them go, then went back to setting up his tent. As he and Bain worked, several people came to ask why the dwarves had gone and where, and he was forced to stop once more and make an announcement to the company as a whole, so that the questions would stop.

"It was their decision to go," he said at the end. "Therefore we must wish them well and keep hope that we shall see them again in a few days."

Bard then explained that, should the initial meeting with the elves in Lothlórien go well, they would stay four days rather than just one, in part to cement friendship and trade but also to give their companions time to return before they moved on. If, by chance, the elves here were less receptive than in Mirkwood, they would simply move south and set up camp on the other side of Lothlórien to wait the four days out.

"I shouldn't think you have anything to worry about," Tauriel said to Bard as everyone returned to their tents. "Though my knowledge of them is secondhand, everything I have been told about my kin here would seem to indicate we shall be well received."

"We shall certainly see the proof or not in the morning," he replied.

She slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. Bard wrapped his arms around her shoulders, once more feeling peace return to his troubled thoughts simply by holding her.

"Do not worry so, Bard. You are going to make a wonderful impression."

Bard smiled against her hair. "Your confidence in my character flatters me, my darling," he told her.

Tauriel looked up at him. "Just telling it like I see it, _meleth nín_ ," she replied with a smile.

* * *

About an hour past midnight, Tauriel awoke and, changing quickly into a clean outfit she had purchased in Halken, slipped out of the tent she shared with Sigrid and Tilda. Upon seeing her, the man and woman who'd been assigned the night watch smiled. They gave a brief report before she sent them off to their tents to sleep. Since Elves required much less sleep than Edain (if they slept at all, as they were capable of entering a waking meditative state to regain their strength), this had become her routine, to relieve those on the night watch that they could get some rest before it was time to get up and march again.

For the first few months after the battle, she had found herself sleeping inordinately long hours—when she could sleep at all. If she wasn't so aggrieved she didn't want to get out of bed, she was plagued with insomnia. It wasn't long before Tauriel realized that her depression was at fault for the former and fear of having to watch Kíli die over and over again in her dreams was the reason for the latter. It was but one more struggle she faced throughout the winter months to regain some semblance of normalcy.

That day in the training yard, when she'd come to the startling realization that she was attracted to Bard, had been a turning point. She found herself sleeping less at night, at which she was relieved, though there was still the intermittent bout of insomnia. This she soon attributed to not wanting to be reminded of how it had felt to stand so close to him, feeling the warmth of his body so near her own. She'd believed so strongly that she needed to keep him at arms length in order to spare him the pain of rejection.

Now she knew different. Now she was nearly at her normal sleep cycle of just four hours, and the _elleth_ knew it was Bard she had to thank for it. It was him, and his children, who had helped her begin to heal, for no longer was her heart—or her soul—weighted down in mourning. Kíli would always have a place in her heart and her memory, for he was the first man she had ever loved… but being freed from the burden of her grief for him had been a blessing from the Valar.

And so, since the journey had been undertaken—save for their stay in Mirkwood—Tauriel had taken to relieving the guards as soon as she woke. She would see to the horses first, making sure they were well, and then often did calisthenics for an hour or so. Every few days she would take a quick bath in the river, though always remaining ever watchful of the camp's surroundings, her ears always attuned to the sound of nature, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

Although the days were getting warmer as spring began to yield to the coming summer, the nights were still often chilly. Tauriel was tending to another of her nightly chores—stoking the fires in front of each tent—when the sensation of being watched overcame her. She straightened from the fire before Halia's tent and casually glanced around. As her eyes slipped past the trees at Lothlórien's northern border, she immediately knew the source of the feeling was hidden there.

Returning to the fire before Bard's tent, she set up the pot they used for boiling water, added some from the canteen she had filled upon waking, then went to the wagon with their supplies and took from the box of food some spearmint leaves, and also four cups and a ladle.

As she returned to the fire with her selections, she spoke in a voice not loud enough to wake any of the company but which she knew would carry on the wind to the ears of her observers. "You might as well show yourselves to me, I already know you are there."

A moment later, three figures draped in gray cloaks appeared from between the trees.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Thanks much to DaniellaBlue, Violette Penn, Theresa, Roxanne Kreft and Eryn for the reviews of chapter 25. Balin, Bofur, and Ori did not go into Lothlórien because in some 70+ years, Haldir will tell Gimli he is the first to enter the Golden Wood since the time of Durin. I'm sticking strictly to canon in some places and giving it a little twist in others. Tbh, I'd almost forgotten about that until I did some research on certain characters and ran across that, and for a while I was freaking out about what to do with those three. Then a good friend suggested Moria, so...they went scouting. ;)**

 **Oh, and Roxanne, thank you so very much for your kind words. I have tried my best to emulate the dialogue style used by Prof. Tolkien in writing his books - I may not be 100%, but I do like to think I'm pretty damn close, and I must be doing it right because you and others have complimented me on the style of writing. Thanks again! Eryn, thank you also for enjoying the pairing - I wanted to bring more depth to the Tauriel character and I am glad you and so many others approve!**

 **And many thanks also to those of you who are reading and following the story without comment.**

 **Oh, and for those of you who were hoping to see Haldir... B-)**

* * *

The tall one in the center reached up and drew back his hood; the two with him followed suit. Tauriel could see plainly that they were male, their pale blond hair almost glowing in the clear, bright light of the moon.

The three stood motionless after showing their faces, to the point that Tauriel rolled her eyes. "Will you just stand there as statues, or would you care to share in a mug of tea with me? I shan't bite you."

Remaining silent still, the three slowly made their way across the 300 yards between the woods and the edge of the camp. They stopped a few feet from the fire. Now that they were closer, Tauriel could see clearly that choice of dress (which seemed to her a uniform of sorts) and hair color were not all the _eledhrim_ before her had in common—without doubt, they were related by blood.

With a soft smile, she raised her right arm across her chest and bowed her head. " _Mae l'ovannen, mellyn nín._ Tauriel _i eneth nín_ ," she greeted them in Sindarin, and switched to Westron as she added, "I am Captain of the Guard in the restored city of Dale."

"So the rumors are true, brother," said the _ellon_ on the left in Sindarin.

The one in the middle looked over his shoulder. "So it would seem," he replied in the same language, before turning back to Tauriel.

"Haldir _i eneth nín_ ," he said, bowing his head. His next words were in the Common Tongue. "I am Marchwarden of Northern Lothlórien. These are my brothers and fellow wardens, Rúmil and Orophin."

The two behind Haldir nodded when their names were given. Tauriel repeated the gesture.

"Tell me, Captain, how came you to travel with so large a company of Edain? I assume they are of the city of Dale," Haldir said.

Tauriel smiled, and as the water in the pot was now boiling, she gestured toward the fire. "Come and have tea with me, and I will share our tale."

Haldir nodded, then spoke to his brothers in Sindarin. They moved as one to sit in a line by the fire, with Haldir closest to her. Tauriel then ladled water into a cup and handed it to him after dropping a few of the mint leaves into it. He passed it to Rúmil, who passed it to Orophin. When all three had a cup and she had filled the last for herself, the _elleth_ sat gracefully with her back to Bard's tent.

"I take it by Rúmil's remark that you have heard of the demise of Smaug five moons past?" Tauriel asked.

Haldir inclined his head. "The word has spread," he replied. "It is said that a lone fisherman brought down the fire-drake."

A smile tilted the corners of her mouth as Tauriel thought of Bard, who slept soundly less than ten feet behind her. She took a sip of her tea, considering for a moment the behavior of her guests. By using Sindarin each time he spoke to his brothers, she guessed that of the three, Haldir was the only one who was fluent in Westron. With that thought in mind, she used her native tongue to tell her story, beginning with the dwarves' capture in Mirkwood. She spoke of hers and Legolas' journey to Lake-town, the attack of the dragon, and Bard's killing Smaug with the last black arrow of his house.

She went on to describe the trip to Gundabad and the frantic ride back to Dale to warn everyone of what she and the prince had seen there. Tauriel did not speak of what happened on Ravenhill save to say that Thorin and his nephews had died—while she knew she was recovering from Kíli's death, the pain was still too much for her to recall.

Not to mention the specifics of her relationship with the dwarf was none of their business.

At last she finished with a brief recounting of the last five months and how she had come to be captain to the soldiers in Dale, as well as the reason for their company's presence outside the Golden Wood.

"You say the dragonslayer is with you now?" asked Orophin.

Tauriel nodded. "Bard believes it is his duty to take part in this first and most important journey."

"The _adan_ is wise in that regard," Haldir said. "Presenting himself as the leader of his people will solidify his claim on the city of Dale and the crown his kin will someday lay upon his head."

"It is also proof that he cares deeply for those that pledge him their allegiance, as I myself have witnessed," she replied.

Silence fell as the four sipped their tea. Tauriel was not remiss to the glances the three brothers subtly directed toward her, and wondered when they would voice whatever question was clearly on their minds.

It was Rúmil who broke the peace, saying, "Forgive me, Captain, if I seem forward… but I am most curious about a couple of your features."

His hostess chuckled softly. "You refer to my ears and my hair, no doubt. I do not mind your question—there are many who ask it, and I will say to you what I have said to others: I am just as curious as to why Eru chose to bless me so when the size of my ears and the color of my hair are so rare among our kin. I only know that I inherited the first from my father and the second from my mother."

Emptying her cup, she set it aside and captured all three wardens in her gaze. "Now I've a question for you: Why did you not approach us earlier?"

"It was our desire to observe, to gather knowledge of your intentions," Haldir replied.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. "You could have just come out and asked."

"A good point," the _ellon_ conceded with a nod.

"Now what will you do? There are still a few hours before the dawn comes, when Bard and the others will awaken."

"Given what you have told us—" began Orophin.

"And the absence of those dwarves," added Rúmil with a barely veiled sneer. Tauriel ignored the disgust in his tone and expression.

"We will go and report to our Lord and Lady," Haldir finished. "A place where your company may set your camp will be prepared for you."

He then signaled to his brothers and they stood in unison. Tauriel stood as well; when she had, Haldir inclined his head once more. "We will return at dawn."

She gave a nod of her own. "I await your return."

The three wardens then turned and silently made their way back to the forest.

* * *

Bard awoke just before dawn, and after a good stretch to loosen his muscles, he stood and nudged Bain awake. He was eager to get this day started, to see what kind of reception they would meet in Lothlórien.

When he stepped out of the tent, the sight of Tauriel in only the second dress he had ever seen her wear brought him up short, his jaw going slack.

"If you're hoping to catch flies, my Lord, you're like to succeed should you remain as you are," Tauriel said in a droll tone.

His eyes roamed over her form. The dress was a simple shift of brown suede that fell to mid-calf. It had a scooped neckline and was laced halfway down the front with matching suede cord. There were two splits in the skirt, one up each leg. Gold-toned thread had been sewn in scrolling tendrils along the edges as well as around the forearm and shoulder of each sleeve. The sleeves themselves were tied to the shoulders with suede cord and appeared to be detachable. She wore an undershirt of white with a high, open neck, leggings the same color brown as the dress, and the dark brown boots she always wore. He found himself wondering if she only owned the one pair of shoes.

But oh, that dress! The way it hugged the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips to perfection… Bard grinned and gave a wink. "Wearing a dress suits you, my darling. You really must do so more often."

His grin widened at her blush. "Thank you," Tauriel said softly. "Maybe I shall, so long as doing so continues to please you."

Bard leaned toward her and kissed her cheek, and she turned away with a smile to help Sigrid and Tilda prepare breakfast. He turned in the opposite direction to help Bain with gathering their bedrolls and breaking down the tent.

"Good morning, Bard."

He looked to see Dorna on his right. "Good morning, Dorna. I trust you slept well?"

She smiled, her eyelashes fluttering over her cheeks. "I did, yes, though once my slumber was disturbed. I recall waking at one point in the night to the sound of voices. I believe Tauriel was talking to someone.

Curiosity bloomed in his mind as he turned back to the elf, handing the tent pole in his hand to Bain. "Tauriel?"

She looked up at him from her crouched position by the fire. "Yes?"

"Dorna told me she woke briefly last night and heard you talking to someone."

Tauriel's face lit up and she stood quickly. "Oh, I was going to tell you over breakfast—three of Lothlórien's marchwardens came to the camp last night. I told them all about Smaug and the battle, and the effort to restore Dale and Esgaroth, at which they were much intrigued. I then explained about our journey 'round the lands and its purpose, how it is your wish to establish trade relationships with other nations."

Intrigued, Bard queried, "And what were their responses to that?"

"Haldir said that he would report to the Lord and Lady of the wood and return for us," she replied. "A place for our camp should be ready by the time we arrive to…wherever it is he and the others will take us to."

"Already prepared?" said Dorna. "Oh, that's right—your kind don't really need to sleep, do they? Makes me wonder just what it is you all do at night while us mere mortals get our beauty rest."

"No, Dorna, we do not need to sleep—that much is true," Tauriel said. "There are a number of ways by which _Eledhrim_ are able to rest their minds and even their bodies without going to sleep. But I have found that true sleep is quite beneficial to restoring oneself, and I rather enjoy it even though I require so little. In slumber, one is no longer bothered by that which worries them in their waking hours… at least for a little while.

"As for what we do at night, it is simply everything that does not or cannot get done during the daytime. Much education and interests are pursued in the hours of night."

Dorna smiled coyly. "No doubt much intrigue also goes on at night."

When Tauriel frowned, Bard knew it was time to steer the subject back to their impending stay in Lothlórien. He then recalled that Dorna had expressed reservations about the elves before, and he began to wonder if she harbored some sort of prejudice against them. Then again, she had been nothing but kind to Tauriel, so perhaps he was over-thinking things.

"Did these gentlemen give any indication of when they would return?" he asked Tauriel.

"Haldir said they would return at dawn, so I imagine they shall arrive at any moment."

The sky was beginning to lighten; already it had shifted from the blue-black of night to shades of purple, pink, and orange as the sun slowly made its climb over the eastern horizon. Bard turned his head toward the trees then to see that three gray-cloaked figures had emerged and were coming toward them.

"Your new friends are back," Dorna said, then turned away and headed for her tent.

Bard watched her go, then turned to Tauriel, who shrugged. He then called to Gudmund to join him and started forward to meet the new arrivals halfway. Tauriel and Gudmund fell into step on either side of him.

When they met, the elf in the middle bowed his head. " _Mae g'ovannen_ , Tauriel."

Tauriel returned the greeting. "May I introduce Bard, son of Galen, Lord of the renewed city of Dale; also Gudmund, son of Sevelod, Deputy Mayor of Esgaroth," she said. "My Lords, may I present Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin, Marchwardens of Northern Lothlórien."

Bard performed the salute that was a tradition of Elvish custom, as they had done. " _Mae l'ovannen_ , gentlemen."

The three bowed their heads in response. "On behalf of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, I bid you welcome to Lothlórien," Haldir said in Westron. "If you are ready to depart, we and the rest of our company will escort you to Caras Galadhon."

"We are not quite ready, I'm afraid," Bard replied, gesturing behind him. "As you can see, my people are just about to have their breakfast. Would you care to join us?"

"We have already broken our fast," Rumil replied in Sindarin.

"Your offer is appreciated, however," Haldir added in Westron.

Bard nodded. "As I am sure you are eager to begin the journey, I will go and hurry everyone along."

He went and spoke to the knot of people who had gathered to watch the exchange. As most had been too busy doing so to actually cook, after about 20 minutes of hurried packing the company was ready to march, having settled for dried meat, fruits, and bread for their morning meal. A low hum of excitement and wonder accompanied muted conversation as they followed the three wardens toward the woods. As they moved beyond the edge line, more border guards appeared from the surrounding trees and fell into line on either side of the column, as Alaren's company had in Mirkwood.

"This place is magnificent," Tauriel said in an almost reverent whisper. "Just look at the silver wood of the trees!"

"Um, why do they call it the 'Golden Wood' if the bark is that silvery gray color?" asked Tilda.

Haldir—who had taken point—stopped and turned around at the question. His piercing gaze found Tilda's, and Bard was forced to hide a grin at the way his youngest daughter lifted her chin, refusing to flinch under the _ellon_ 's scrutiny.

"Child, look around you," the warden said, though not unkindly. In fact, his voice had the same reverent quality to it that Tauriel's had, if not more so for his living there. "Do you not see the golden carpet that lays upon the forest floor, or the bright buds nestled throughout the canopy above us? The leaves of mallorn trees do not fall in the autumn—instead, they turn gold and cleave to the branches until the coming of spring, falling only to make way for the growth of new green and the covering of the boughs in yellow flowers."

Many of the company looked up at that—Bard saw a brilliant smile light Tauriel's features as she gazed overhead. Indeed, he too could appreciate the beauty that surrounded them.

"Golden is the roof and the floor," she murmured in awe.

Haldir smiled and nodded, then silently turned and continued forward.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _mellyn nín_ – my friends

 _eledhrim_ – elves

 _ellon_ – male elf

 _adan_ – a person of the race of Men (singular of Edain)


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Thanks once again to DaniellaBlue, Violette Penn, Guest, Theresa, Janine, and Eryn for leaving a review. Janine, thanks so much for all your thoughts and compliments, I very much appreciate them! I am, in fact, a published author (of paranormal suspense and romantic suspense), though one doesn't necessarily have to be to be a good writer. Just a little talent and some effort and desire to do well. I still thank you for saying my story was like reading a book from a store - made my day.**

 **And of course I thank each and every person who reads, favorites, and/or follows the story in silence.**

* * *

Caras Galadhon, the capital of Lothlórien, was a stunning sight to behold. The trees were of such a great height that no amount of craning the neck would bring their tops into view.

The company was surprised by the way in which the elves here lived. Unlike in the Woodland Realm, where the great halls had been hewn from stone, here the dwellings were high up in the trees on platforms Haldir said were called flets. Staircases wound around the great trunks from the ground to take them up dizzying heights to their homes or places where they worked. Bridges had been constructed that connected one tree to another, creating a crisscrossing network of walkways that reminded them all of Lake-town.

What they did not expect was to find that some of the largest trees had been partially hollowed out. These, their guide explained, were used for storage of various items, shelter for the animals in their care, and even as dwellings for those of their visitors who took issue with sleeping high above the ground. When they reached the brightly lit clearing Haldir said had been given to the company's use, there were two such hollowed trees for the horses. Bard took notice of a third, one with a door and windows, and asked its purpose.

"That dwelling is intended for your personal use," the elf replied.

For a moment, Bard could only blink in surprise. "I would have thought such a privilege would be reserved for one of greater rank than myself," he murmured.

" _Hîr nín_ , you _are_ a man of great rank," Tauriel pointed out softly.

He smiled even as he shook his head. "I don't think so, Tauriel. I'm just a simple man doing what needs to be done."

"Humility is the mark of a man of great rank," Haldir said, then added, "My Lord and Lady desire to meet with you, if you would follow me."

Bard nodded and gestured to Gudmund. "Bain," he said to his son. "I'm leaving you in command until we return."

Bain appeared stunned by the declaration, but nodded. "Yes, _Da_."

Taking a breath, Bard reached for Tauriel's hand and made to follow Haldir, Gudmund on their heels. If the elves leading them or those they passed had any thoughts as to his taking the hand of the _elleth_ beside him, they made no mention of it. Looking around as they walked, he got the sense that they were being taken even deeper into the woods, and after ten minutes Haldir took them up one of the winding staircases. It wrapped around the largest tree Bard had seen in all his life, and led to the grandest of the flet dwellings he had yet glimpsed.

They came to a stop on a platform that looked up another, wider covered staircase. Haldir stood just before the three visitors to the left of Tauriel, with Rúmil to Gudmund's right and Orophin just behind them. Bard, in the middle, drew himself up straight and took a steadying breath, as he suddenly had the sense that he was about to meet someone of great import.

A soft laugh echoed, and Bard surreptitiously looked for the source of it. When the laugh sounded again, he suddenly realized only he could hear it and frowned.

 _You need not be concerned_ , Lhûgdagnir, said a feminine voice that was at once light and musical, with an intonation much like Haldir's. _You are among friends_.

 _Who_ …? he wondered, curious not only about the owner of the voice in his mind but also how she could possibly have known he had been the one to kill the dragon.

 _I have seen many things_ , said the voice. _I feel many things as well—your heart yearns for the_ elleth _whose hand you now grasp_.

Unbidden, his head turned to Tauriel. She looked up and offered him a small smile, but seemed distracted. Was the voice speaking to her as well? Was that even possible?

 _Prepare yourself_ , _Master Bowman_. _For there will be sorrow before you know your joy_.

Bard frowned. He didn't like that last part—not in the least. But he was distracted from dwelling on it by the couple now descending the stairs before him. They were both tall, the silver-haired male with the stern visage dressed in robes the same soft silver-gray as the trees around them. The golden-haired female whose hand rested lightly on his arm had a serene countenance and wore a white, lacy gown.

And if he were not mistaken, she _glowed_ —an ethereal white light seemed to emanate from her entire being. It faded to near nothing when they reached the platform on which he stood.

The elves within his eyesight raised their right arms to their chests and bowed respectfully—Tauriel released Bard's hand and did the same—as the pair came to a stop, both clasping their hands together in front of them. When Haldir stood straight he spoke, again with a tone of reverence.

"My Lord, My Lady… May I present Bard, son of Galen and Lord of Dale, and his companions: Tauriel of the Woodland Realm, Captain of the Guard in Dale, and Gudmund, son of Sevelod and Deputy of the Lord of Esgaroth."

He turned then to the three visitors. "My Lords, Captain… I present to you Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Light."

When Bard's eyes connected with the woman's, he found there a knowing look, and immediately knew it was her voice he had heard, though he could not fathom how she had done it, nor what her cryptic comment about sorrow meant.

Shaking himself mentally, he cleared his throat and spoke to the pair. " _Mae l'ovannen, hîr nín, hiril nín_."

The ghost of a smile lifted the corners of Galadriel's mouth as Celeborn regarded him with a minute amount of surprise in his eyes. " _Mae l'ovannen_ ," he returned, his voice a deep bass, then said in Westron, "You speak our language well, Lord of Dale."

"Thank you. Though I admit I still have some difficulty and could not likely hold a full conversation as yet, my people have received great instruction from Captain Tauriel," Bard replied, thankful to be able to speak the Common Tongue.

"You come to us in pilgrimage," Galadriel said then.

Bard nodded. "Indeed, my Lady. As you know, the dragon Smaug is dead by my hand, and myself and many others from Lake-town—which the dragon destroyed when he awoke from his long years of slumber—have taken up residence in the city of our ancestors. But much is needed to truly make it home again, and those who have chosen to rebuild Esgaroth are also in need."

"You desire to engage in trade with us?" Celeborn asked. At his nod, the Elf-lord continued. "I do not know what you desire that our people may provide, Lord Bard."

Bard glanced briefly at Tauriel, then Gudmund, before saying, "We are in need of seeds for planting, tools of industry such as woodcutting, blacksmithing, and tailoring, amongst others. Tools with which to care for our animals, medicines to heal our sick…"

"Do you desire weapons of war? For we know that Durin's Folk reside once more in the Lonely Mountain."

Fighting the urge to glower at the undercurrent of prejudice in his voice, Bard said evenly, "No, weapons are not an immediate need, for Dale's armory is well-stocked still from days past. And Lord Dáin and his kin have been most gracious neighbors to us, having provided additional weapons and armor, as well as labor in the rebuilding of the city."

Celeborn's eyes dropped to the sword at Bard's waist, though it was Galadriel who said, "You carry a piece of him who stole from you your home twice over."

"I carry more than one, my Lady."

"A guardian of his people should be well-armed," she replied, "for how else are you to defend them?"

Galadriel then looked over the three of them, saying, "Here in this place you will find peace and respite to go in hand with the wares you desire. Return now to your kin, and in the noon hours mine will come to you for your needs."

At that moment, Gudmund leaned over and whispered in Bard's ear, asking if he intended to mention the dwarves. Though he knew the younger man need not have bothered to speak low, as every elf on the flet could still hear him quite clearly, he nevertheless nodded and looked to their hosts.

"I am just reminded that there were others in our party who departed for a time last evening. They are to return to us in four days—"

He did not get finish his sentence. "You and your kin are welcome to remain in the Golden Wood until the time of their return," Galadriel broke in.

With an incline of his head, Bard replied, " _Le hannon_ , my Lady. You are most gracious to offer your hospitality to so many uninvited guests."

A knowing smile, such as one would wear if they knew a secret, crossed her face before Haldir gestured for them to follow him and his brothers once more.

* * *

 _Welcome, Daughter of the Forest_.

Tauriel blinked. She was the only female in the immediate vicinity, so where had the voice come from?

A laugh that sounded as the tinkling of silver bells followed her thought, and she was suddenly reminded of one of the tales she had long ago heard, that the Lady of the Golden Wood had many magical talents. It was not a great surprise to find that telepathy outside of her marriage bond was one of them.

 _Thank you, my Lady_ , Tauriel replied silently.

 _Grief still touches your heart_ , said the voice, _though its waning is as the dawn of a new day. Look to the future, for it is beside you_.

Feeling Bard's eyes on her then, Tauriel looked up and gave a small smile. _I do not wish to hurt him, but I do not believe I would survive the loss of him. What do I do?_

 _Do not worry, child. The love you share will endure what is to come_.

No time was given in which she could dwell on that last remark, as two of the fairest elves she had ever beheld were descending the stairs before them. She released Bard's hand to salute and bow as Haldir and his brothers did.

Doing so helped her hide the frown that marred her features, wondering why she felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity, one she'd only ever felt with her parents. On straightening, she sensed that she shared it with Galadriel and not her husband. It was somewhat disconcerting, feeling like she ought to know this woman, even though she did not.

As Bard was their leader, she remained silent and let him do the talking. Celeborn and Galadriel both asked him questions she was certain they already knew the answers to, given their border guards had already reported everything she had told them. Perhaps, she thought, they simply wanted to hear it for themselves.

Tauriel sensed Bard tensing when Celeborn asked if they wanted weapons because dwarves had taken up residence in the Lonely Mountain. She was surprised—not so much by Bard's reaction, as she knew he was on friendly terms with Dale's neighbors. What had her eyebrow shooting up was what had set him off: by the tone of his voice, it was clear that Lothlórien's lord had a dislike of dwarves, though she could not fathom as to why. Surely it was not a dispute over gemstones, as Thranduil's stemmed from.

The next thing she knew, Lady Galadriel was declaring the company could stay in Lothlórien while they waited for their friends to return. Tauriel had no doubt the news would be well received; though they'd had a day of rest two days ago, the march since had been rough on all with the addition of the rain and the difficult crossing of the Gladden Fields. In moments, she and her companions were being led back to the company's camp by Haldir and his brothers.

Shortly after they had climbed down from the great tree, Gudmund leaned toward Bard. "My Lord, am I mad to wonder if that most beautiful of Elvish women—no offense, Captain—has any sort of magical abilities?"

Tauriel grinned at the unintentional insult, having taken no offense to it. In fact, it was not the first time she'd heard Galadriel described as such.

And she was not at all surprised to discover she had not been the only one that had spoken to—no doubt the Lady of Light had said something to Bard as well. Curiosity bloomed in her mind, but she tamped it down. If he wished to share it with her, he would. In truth, she wasn't sure she would share her own, as she wasn't even sure what to make of it.

"Why do you ask, Gudmund?" Bard queried.

The younger man glanced around them, then leaned even closer to say, "I tell you, I heard a voice in my mind— _her_ voice! How could she speak to me before she'd even seen me, let alone without even opening her mouth?"

"It is said that some of my kin were blessed by Eru himself with abilities most extraordinary," Tauriel spoke up. "It is no surprise to me then that one as aged and wise as Lady Galadriel would have such a gift."

"I wouldn't worry, Gudmund," added Bard as they approached the clearing. "You are a man of honor—surely if the lady spoke to you, she had only good things to say."

"Indeed! Though it really wasn't anything I hadn't heard before—you told me yourself to be more confident, sire."

"Perhaps now that such sage advice has been said by one of angelic beauty, you will finally pay it heed," Tauriel teased with a smile.

Gudmund grinned at her, then moved off to join some of the people from Esgaroth. As their escort turned silently to leave, she spoke to Haldir.

"I do not wish to presume, but given your guardsmen are well armed, pray tell me there is a weaponsmith residing here."

The _ellon_ nodded sagely. "Indeed there is. Have you need of a sword, or a bow and arrows?"

She shook her head. "Nay—a strong bow and arrows aplenty I have. 'Tis knives I need. Near a week past, our party stopped in Halken, a village of Men north of the Gladden Fields. While dining with them, goblins came from the nearby hills and attacked us—we suspect them to have been the same fiends who slaughtered their neighbors in Savis, leaving only three orphaned children to survive."

"They attacked while you supped?" Haldir asked, incredulity in his eyes and voice as he looked between her and Bard.

Bard snorted derisively. "Clearly it mattered not to them what time it was, so long as the sky was dark. Tauriel was nearly burned alive by one of those foul bastards."

Tauriel started at the anger in his tone. They had not talked much of the incident, which apparently still troubled Bard. She was not alone in noticing the strength of his ire—Haldir and his brothers were not remiss to it, evidenced by the appraising looks they directed toward the _adan_ beside her.

Clearing her throat to direct their attention back to her, she said, "I lost my fighting knives in the fight, and would very much like to replace them. I should like to meet with your smith, and if possible have a pair made in the likeness of those I lost, as I had carried them many years. If their manufacture would take longer than four days, I would be satisfied to purchase a new pair from your stock."

"I have little doubt four days would be more than sufficient," Haldir told her. "I will endeavor to bring him along this afternoon."

"Thank you," Tauriel replied, and then with a nod, the three wardens left them.

When they had gone, she turned to Bard and saw in the set of his shoulders that he was still quite tense. "Are you all right?" she asked softly.

He shook himself and looked to her with a tight smile. "Forgive me, I know I should not dwell on what is past. But speaking of it just now reminded me painfully of how close I came to losing you. I know our courtship is still in its infancy, yet it does not negate the fact that I would have been devastated."

Unable to form words with which to reply to his confession, Tauriel merely stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Bard slipped his arms around her waist and held her tight, burying his face in her hair.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Lhûgdagnir_ – dragonslayer

 _le hannon_ – I thank thee


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Thanks be to Guest, IsabelleBrown, DaniellaBlue, Theresa, Roxanne Kreft, and Eryn for leaving a review of chapter 27! And more thanks to those of you who said I did such a good job with Galadriel, Celeborn, and Haldir. Thanks also to those who favorite, follow, and read in silence.**

 **Roxanne - Think back to** ** _Fellowship_** **when the fellas (minus poor Gandalf) had just arrived in Lothlórien: In the film, Galadriel is heard speaking to Frodo, Pippin, and Gimli via telepathy, and Boromir later says to Aragorn he heard her voice in his head (thus I assume she spoke to each of them). Though I don't think telepathy is a gift all elves possess, which is why Tauriel tells Gudmund "some of my kin", elder elves like Galadriel and Elrond certainly do have it.**

 **Eryn - Celeborn's dislike of dwarves does, much as Tauriel would hate to hear it, stem from a dispute over gemstones - at least one particular gemstone, and a necklace. However, it is not a petty squabble over whether something was paid for or not. In Celeborn's case, it stems from the treachery of the dwarves who set a Silmaril into a dwarf-made necklace owned by Thingol, the High King of Doriath - where Celeborn, his kinsman, was a prince. The dwarves demanded the necklace and Thingol refused; they killed him and took it anyway. Elves pursued the dwarves and exacted vengeance, but two of the dwarves escaped and rallied their kinsmen in the Blue Mountains to retaliate on Doriath. Many elves were killed and the necklace stolen again, though it was reclaimed by Beren. When the Sons of** **Fëanor learned of the Silmaril in Doriath, they, too, demanded it, and when Dior - son of Beren and Lúthien - refused, Doriath was sacked again. After that, the survivors scattered, and it's said that this was about the time that Celeborn's distrust of dwarves began.**

 **But enough of the history lesson. Onto the next chapter of** ** _my_** **story... ;)**

 **The end of this chapter contains a scene of nudity. Reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

In the afternoon of their first day in Lothlórien, the company was met by a number of Elvish craftsmen. Though the atmosphere was more subdued than in Mirkwood, a pleasant time was still had and many were able to purchase things they wanted or needed for themselves and for others back home.

Bard and Gudmund met with Lord Celeborn in the tree domicile that had been given to Bard for his family to use during their stay. Though future trade was briefly discussed, the main topic was a possible alliance between Dale and Lothlórien—Bard wanted to know who he could count on in a crisis, be they elf, dwarf, or man.

Dáin he believed he could count on. Their relationship since the battle had been nothing but peaceful—friendly, even. The dwarf was rough around the edges, to be sure, and he'd found the King under the Mountain far easier to deal with if he just got straight to the point. Dwarves, Bard had discovered, preferred blunt over soft-spoken. He could handle that.

Thranduil, on the other hand… He was a whole other entity whose moods changed with the turning of a breeze. They were on amicable terms in part due to their alliance before last year's fateful battle, and there was little doubt that giving the elf 300 emeralds had garnered him some further esteem. But he knew that despite Dáin having given the White Gems of Lasgalen to Mirkwood's king (probably just to keep him off his back, he was sure), Thranduil still harbored some resentment of the dwarves. Though he understood that centuries of animosity wasn't going to just go away, he had thought that things were…settled, at least, between them.

Still, Bard had seen neither hide nor hair of a single elf save Tauriel in the five months between the battle and the company's journey to the Woodland Realm. As such, he could not help but wonder if the Elves of Mirkwood could be trusted to come to Dale's aid, should the need arise—and despite their getting along so far, Celeborn's earlier remark had left him wondering the same about their kin in Lothlórien.

Funny how the ones the elves trusted least were the ones Bard trusted most.

When their negotiations were concluded—Lord Celeborn having, in fact, pledged support to Dale on the condition the same be given in return—Bard and Gudmund walked out with him to the clearing. Bard watched as the silver-haired elf-lord walked over to a dark-haired _elleth_ who was conversing with Tauriel. Celeborn smiled and offered the beautiful elf his arm, which she took with a laugh and a smile of her own. After saying a few more words to Tauriel, who raised her arm and bowed, the two departed.

After they had gone, Bard walked over to Tauriel and, after placing a hand at her waist, leaned to kiss her temple. He was rewarded with a light blush and a smile.

"Who were you talking to just now?" he asked.

"That was Lady Arwen. She is the granddaughter of our hosts, her mother being their daughter. Her father is Elrond, who is Lord in Imladris—called Rivendell in the Common Tongue—a prosperous Elf colony west of the Misty Mountains. Arwen's twin brothers Elladan and Elrohir spend much time with the Dúnedain and Rangers of the North in Arnor."

Bard grinned. "That's quite a lot to learn about a person in one conversation. You must've made quite an impression on her."

"It's odd, but when she is near I have this feeling that I already know her. At the same time it is a welcome feeling, for I should like to have made a friend," Tauriel said. "There are not many with whom I am close."

"I don't have many close friends, either," he admitted.

She made a noise and he looked at her. Tauriel nodded to his right; when he followed her gaze, Bard noted Magnus standing nearby.

"He is perhaps not a friend," she said softly, "but it would seem Magnus has appointed himself your guardian. Have you not noticed that he is near whenever you are in a public gathering of late?"

Bard furrowed his brow in thought and realized she was right. Since the slaughter they had seen in Savis, unless he had specifically been directed to be elsewhere Magnus had indeed been close by wherever he went. He'd been right at the front of the group who had gathered to witness his first contact with the marchwardens of Lothlórien, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Hmm… While the sentiment is appreciated, I have no need of a bodyguard," he said at last. "Perhaps I shall have a word with him later."

"Do so only to express your gratitude for his taking on the task without having been asked to do so," Tauriel said. "For you are wrong about not needing protection."

"Am I now?"

"Yes," she replied firmly. "Bard, though it may yet be a year or more hence, you are to be a king to your people. Every person in a position of power, even one so noble as yourself, is like to make enemies. Do not scorn those who possess a willingness to defend you."

Bard frowned. "I can defend myself."

Tauriel placed a hand on his arm, her lips turning up in a placating smile. "Of that there can be no doubt, but it is not a question of your ability to defend yourself, _hîr nín_. Thranduil and Celeborn are equally as capable of defending themselves as you are, yet neither is without an armed shadow or two whenever they are outside their halls."

Reluctantly, he acknowledged she was right about that as well: In Mirkwood, Thranduil's guards had not even been subtle, wearing full armor as they had accompanied their king to the visitors' campsite. Here in Lothlórien, Celeborn's security were less obviously attired in garb similar to what the border patrol wore, and had kept to the edge of the clearing where the company was set up. Still, he recalled, their eyes had followed their lord as he walked, relief clear in their countenances as he had emerged unharmed from the tree dwelling with him and Gudmund.

Hell, even the Master had gone nowhere without an armed escort, though Bard knew in his case, the man had suffered more from a rampant case of paranoia than actual fear for his safety.

With a sigh and a nod, he conceded the point. "Very well. When I do speak with Magnus, I shall consult with him about the forming of a King's Guard. He is, after all, one of the few soldiers we had in Lake-town who still lives, and one of fewer still I can even say I like."

* * *

The company's time in Lothlórien was, to many, a small adventure in and of itself. They were given leave to explore the capital as they liked, and were even allowed (with guides, of course) to explore the smaller villages within the Golden Wood, though there were few as most of the elves lived within the "city" limits of Caras Galadhon. Some of those in the party trained to fight practiced their skills alongside of or even against their hosts. Tauriel sparred with Haldir and their contest ended in a draw, neither wishing to do the other any real harm. Bard had been convinced to test his skill with a bow against Rúmil and Orophin, the wardens' best archers.

They were each duly impressed when he not only hit the center each time, but bested them both in distance-to-target shots. At the conclusion of their event, the two elves stood before him and bowed respectfully, with Orophin saying, "Clearly your mastery is not exaggerated, though I should not be surprised to have been outdone by one who is called Dragonslayer."

That was another thing: His having been the one to bring down Smaug was news quickly spread, and every elf Bard encountered addressed him as _Lhûgdagnir_ —the Sindarin word for "Dragonslayer." When he quietly asked Tauriel why at one point during their second day, she had informed him that among her kin, anyone who killed a dragon and lived to tell the tale was afforded a great deal of respect. It marked him—or her—as a warrior of remarkable prowess, and as such they were often addressed by the title as a mark of honor.

By the third day, Bard found himself growing somewhat irritable at having no real time alone with Tauriel. Everywhere they went, one or the other was quickly surrounded by others vying for their attention. How was he to romance her when nobody would leave them alone long enough for him to do so?

So it was some surprise that evening to exit the tree dwelling after settling the girls into bed—something Tauriel usually did—to find her nowhere in the camp. He then caught sight of Arwen as she spoke to Halia and smiled down at a giggling Beryl.

" _Hiril nín_ ," he said as he approached. "I beg forgiveness of the interruption, but I cannot seem to locate Tauriel. Usually she is here in camp with us so late in the evening."

Arwen stood straight and studied him with a practiced eye. She then smiled softly before said, "I gave her directions to a private bathing pool, as she wished to cleanse herself away from prying eyes."

Knowing that elves were not given to modesty—there were communal bathing houses in Lothlórien and also such rooms in Thranduil's halls—Bard suspected she had simply desired to spend some quiet time alone with her thoughts, more than she didn't want to be seen in the nude by others of her kind. He nodded his head and thanked the _elleth_ , then turned to walk back to the tree dwelling to await Tauriel's return.

He did not expect Arwen to approach him at the door, nor for her to say softly, "If you take the second path on the right behind this dwelling, you will find your way there."

Raising an eyebrow at her knowing smile, Bard said nothing as she turned and walked across the clearing, where she was met by a guard and escorted away from the camp. After a moment's thought—he could certainly use a good bath himself—he hurried inside to gather a clean set of clothes, and after instructing Bain to stay with his sisters, just as quickly left again.

What he did not allow himself to consider—or at least, endeavored vainly not to dwell upon—was the fact that there was a chance he might catch Tauriel still in the water. Every nerve ending in his body came alive at the thought, and a certain part of his anatomy twitched as lust shot unbidden through his veins. _Get a hold of yourself, Bard_ , he chastised himself. _If you come upon her unclothed, you_ will _do the gentlemanly thing and turn your back_.

Though they had known each other for a little over five months now, they had been officially courting for less than a week—she'd been in deep mourning until just weeks ago, for pity's sake! Thoughts of intimacy were _greatly_ out of line at this point. The logic and propriety of that notion, however, did nothing to stop the excitement now speeding his steps, nor the image that sprang to the forefront of his mind of the two of them in the midst of coitus, a blissful expression on Tauriel's face.

Bard stopped in his tracks. It had been far too long since he had felt the touch of a woman's skin against his, if his embarrassingly pubescent thoughts were any indication. He should _not_ be thinking about seeing Tauriel naked, and certainly not wondering what it would be like to lay with her! For a moment he considered turning back—he could wait until she returned to see her.

Indeed, he commanded his feet to carry him back to the camp, but they ignored his will and continued down the path toward the private pool. And when the trees broke to reveal a tiny clearing, in the middle of which was a small body of water glistening in the moonlight, Bard's breath caught in his chest.

Sitting on a boulder at the side of the pool was Tauriel. She leaned back with her hands braced behind her and one leg drawn up, her head thrown back, her still-wet hair unbraided. Her eyes were closed as she basked in the light of the moon and stars…wearing absolutely nothing at all. Her clothes lay on a smaller boulder next to the one on which she was perched.

Though he had wondered what she might look like on the way here, his imagination had done the exquisite beauty of her absolutely no justice. Her breasts were high and firm, the dusky rose of her areolae and nipples made mauve by the dark of night. Her muscles were defined but not bulky, her abdomen flat, and the mound of curls he glimpsed at the apex of her thighs he thought to be only a few shades darker than her hair, though it was hard to tell from this distance.

Bard nearly let out a boyish yelp when her voice came to him, startling him out of his daze.

"You might as well draw a picture. It will last much longer."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Thanks be to Sparky She-Demon, Theresa, IsabelleBrown, Guest, Violette Penn, DaniellaBlue, Janine, and Eryn for your reviews. Thanks also to those reading, following, and favoriting.**

 **This chapter contains explicit material of an adult nature. I honestly tried to do the "fade to black" style and my Muse refused to cooperate. Reader discretion is advised.**

* * *

A sudden sound off to her right had Tauriel tuning her ears to listen—someone was coming down the path to the pool. She didn't even consider hurrying to dress, as she'd been nude amongst others of her kind before. Whoever it was, they were welcome to join her now that she'd had her time alone, though if they, too, had sought this place for solitude, she'd be more than happy to put her clothes on and give it to them.

The air current then brought to her a familiar scent.

 _Bard_.

It was he who headed toward her now, and in mere seconds he would find her perched on a boulder in naught but her skin. Why wasn't she moving to dress herself? Sense told her she ought not allow him to see her without a dress or tunic and leathers on, as they'd barely begun courting. She was well aware that for mortals, shared nudity between males and females was reserved for the spousal bedroom or the brothel. And of course there where her own people's views to consider.

So why did she still make no move to cover herself?

 _Because you want him_ , said her own voice inside her head. And judging by the strength of the pheromones she could now smell on the air, Bard wanted her too. Her head swam as the scent of his desire triggered her own, and suddenly she found herself craving his touch with a fierceness that was at once startling and exhilarating.

When she sensed him staring at her, Tauriel could not help but quip, "You might as well draw a picture. It will last much longer."

She opened her eyes and sat up as she heard him turn swiftly around. "I beg your forgiveness, _hiril nín_ ," Bard said, his voice hoarse. "I should not have looked so long. I will go."

"Don't," Tauriel said softly, and he froze. "Stay with me a while."

He took some time to reply. "Are you certain?"

She knew that he referred not to just his presence, but what would surely happen between them if he remained. He was being a gentleman and giving her a chance to turn him away.

It was startling to realize she did not want to. The confused state of her emotions over the last month had gone silent—all she could hear now was her body's cry for him. Not stopping to question what that meant she slipped off the boulder, and faster than she had ever moved in her life she was across the 30 feet that separated them. Tauriel reached for his right hand, the left being occupied with what appeared to be a change of clothes, and gave it a gentle tug. The tense set of his shoulders relaxed only a fraction as he slowly turned around.

The raw desire she saw in his eyes was not dimmed by the muted light of the moon above—in fact, Ithil's glow only served to make it more intense.

It was almost frightening to see how much he wanted her. At the same time, a heady sensation swam in her head to know that she had this kind of power over a man so proud and strong as he.

She backed up slowly, pulling him with her. "Come, take a swim with me."

The irony was not lost on her that the one of them with more experience in these matters seemed the most nervous. Tauriel paused by the two boulders and gently encouraged Bard to disrobe, then turned to walk out into the water. Bard caught her elbow and she turned to face him.

"Why don't you help me?" he asked, a sly grin on his face.

Her nerves began to buzz as she stepped back toward him and hesitantly reached for the hem of his tunic, pulling it up so he could draw it over his head. Bard dropped the shirt on the boulder next to him while she studied his now bare chest, admiring the definition of his muscles, the flat, hard lines of his abdomen. A thin layer of hair covered the width of him from his neck to his abs, where it meandered into a trail that disappeared beneath the waist of his trousers. He took her hands in his and placed them at his waist; instead of gripping his pants to push them down she found herself unable to resist the urge to run her hands up along his sides and down his chest first, making him tremble.

He felt like steel wrapped in soft leather, she mused, as she returned her hands to his trousers and untied the string holding them up. Bard toed off his boots as she pushed the garment past his hips, and Tauriel gasped audibly when she freed his erection, the rigid flesh already standing straight with his need.

"Oh my…" she said, then looked up at him with wide eyes. "It will hurt when you take my maidenhead, won't it?"

Bard froze as he kicked his shoes and trousers aside. "You have never laid with a man before?" he asked, his surprise clear in his voice.

Tauriel shook her head and looked away from him, suddenly embarrassed by her virgin status. "It's… well, it's just that… You see, among my people, sexual contact is more than just a physical union. It is also spiritual, as it completes the mating bond by blending the two souls into one. I am sorry I am not more experienced—"

He silenced her by suddenly placing a tender kiss to her lips, his hands lifting to either side of her face to hold her still. "My darling, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. It is a noble person who waits—and for the record, I have only ever lain with one woman in all my life, she who was the mother of my children."

He kissed her softly again before saying, "I am honored that you would choose to give yourself to me."

Suddenly overcome with emotion, she reached for his head and brought him back down for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate. Bard responded in kind, then moved them away from the boulders and eased them both down to the soft grass. They explored each other's bodies with their hands as they kissed; Tauriel moaned as his hands caressed her breasts, the moan becoming a soft cry when he took his lips from hers and captured one pebbled nipple in his mouth. Her back arched as he laved first one and then the other, one hand all the while moving further down her body until he cupped the mound above her sex.

Bard slipped his hand lower, brushing his fingers down along her sex and back again. Tauriel gasped as new sensations coursed through her, the bundle of nerves above her most intimate skin now throbbing as though demanding more. Every nerve in her body was suddenly on fire, the desire she already felt being slowly stoked higher as his hand continued to stroke her. She could feel herself getting wet, felt her hips tilting almost of their own volition, wanting more.

"I need you to open for me, love," Bard whispered, his voice thick with desire. "If elf-women are anything like daughters of Men, I must prepare you to receive me."

Tauriel moved her legs apart and his hand moved further down. She gasped again when he slipped two fingers inside of her, scissoring them to open her wider. He returned his mouth to her breasts as he worked, and she soon forgot about the uncomfortable pressure.

After just a few minutes, however, he lifted his head and moved his body from beside her to between her legs. Though he braced himself on his forearms, she still felt much of his weight on her, the thought of how heavy he was quickly vanishing when he reached down and positioned his _gwî_ at her opening.

"My darling, this may be uncomfortable for you, but it will pass. I promise it will not always be so," Bard told her before pushing forward.

The feel of him inside of her was a fullness she'd not expected; it was indeed uncomfortable, but not unpleasantly so. Tauriel gripped his shoulders tightly, willing her body to relax as he moved into her inch by inch. She knew her virginity was no more when a sudden, sharp pain had her tightening her muscles in reflex, a cry escaping her and tears stinging her eyes unbidden.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts _meleth nín_ ," he said. "Just try to relax."

She was grateful that he had stilled, giving her time to get used to the new feelings assailing her body. Tauriel fought to control her breathing, to relax her rigid muscles, and opened her eyes to find Bard looking down on her with an expression so tender—a mixture of concern and adoration in his eyes that she had never before seen—that she could not help but smile. He chose that moment to begin moving again, pulling his hips backward until he was almost out of her and then slipping slowly back inside. Once again, she soon forgot about the discomfort as she found herself becoming lost in the sensations what he was doing to her stirred within.

In truth, she could not even think of the words to describe the feelings now coursing through her, save to say that she wanted more. The sound their bodies made as Bard thrust in and out of her was erotic, the friction of his pelvis against her clitoris stirring the fire raging in her blood to ever-increasing heights. Her breath was soon coming in pants between each soft moan that escaped her.

"Oh, Bard… this feels…"

She could not finish the sentence, unable to find just the right word to describe her body's reaction.

"Magical," he finished for her with a smile. "I thought never would I have reason to use that word again, but you have given one to me."

 _Yes, that's it_ , she thought as her eyes drifted closed in bliss. _Making love to you is a truly magical experience_.

Tauriel felt him go still, and opened her eyes to find Bard staring at her, his eyes wide and his gaze searching. _Oh, no_ … _Did I do something wrong?_ she wondered.

"You… you've done nothing wrong," he stuttered. "It's just… I can hear your voice though your lips remain still."

Enlightenment dawned—he was reacting to her thoughts, not anything she had done—and a dizzying mix of awe and fear swirled in her mind.

"Why are you afraid?" Bard asked, his expression shifting to one of concern.

"Because I am not certain how you will react to what is happening," she confessed. "And because being so beholden to another is quite daunting."

"I don't understand."

Placing a hand to his cheek, Tauriel lazily stroked her thumb across his lower lip as she looked into his eyes and thought, _Do you recall my saying but moments ago that sexual contact between Elves is also a spiritual union?_

Bard's eyes widened a fraction, his affirmative nod proof that he had indeed heard her. _Something also about completing the mating bond, I believe you said_ , came his voice in her mind. She smiled that he seemed to readily catch on even as he said, _I regret that I was rather preoccupied and did not grasp the full meaning of your words. Is that why we can now speak to one another with thoughts alone?_

 _Yes. We are bonding, Bard_ , she told him silently. _I am sorry, I should have made sure you understood what would happen but I could barely think over my desire for you_.

He smiled then and kissed her softly. "That was my problem as well," he said aloud.

"Are you okay with this?" Tauriel asked. "We may yet be able to break the bond should you not desire to share the rest of your life with me."

At first, he made no reply other than to kiss her again and resume the rocking of his hips. He did as he had when first taking her, drawing back until he nearly separated them, though now he did not enter her until she whimpered for him. She moaned softly each time he moved forward, tipping her head back and closing her eyes as desire consumed her once more. Her back arched until her breasts grazed his chest, the hair there ticking her already overly-sensitive nipples. Though it was slow, sensual torture, she knew she would gladly endure it as long as he wanted her.

She felt small waves of pleasure beginning to trickle out from her core at the same time she felt her body tighten around him. Desperate for relief from something she knew was just out of reach, she locked her legs around his, with one hand grabbing hold of his arse and with the other twining her fingers in his hair. Bard gave a soft growl when the hand on his bottom squeezed lightly.

 _Keep that up and I'll not last much longer_ , he thought to her.

She grinned and squeezed again. Bard responded by dropping his head to claim her mouth with his and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

Close. So close… She could feel the tightness in her belly growing in intensity. Tauriel wanted more of him— _needed_ more—and she could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that Bard, too, was soon to reach the peak. But he was holding back and she didn't understand why.

 _For you, my darling. I would have you experience your pleasure first_.

Amazed that he would be so considerate, tears stung her eyes once more. _Do not wait for me, my love_. _I will take my pleasure in you achieving yours_.

He growled softly again, and it was but moments before his control snapped and his thrusting became frenzied. Lifting her hips with one hand, he drove into her harder with every thrust, his breathing quickly becoming labored. Her own ragged breathing soon matched his in rhythm.

Tauriel screamed when the power of her climax slammed through her, each wave of pleasure causing her to buck her hips against him. Stars seemed to explode behind her eyes, the hand in his hair fisting and pulling hard. Bard, too, cried out with his own release; both were panting heavily as he finally collapsed on top of her. They lay together with their arms around each other and their legs tangled together for several minutes as each fought to slow the racing of their heart.

After a time, Bard turned his head and placed a kiss to her temple, and Tauriel once more heard his voice in her mind.

 _You thought some time ago that you would endure my torture of you gladly so long as I wanted you, did you not?_

 _That I did_ , she replied. _But do you really want this? Do you really want_ me _, and all the emotional baggage I carry with me?_

Bard lifted his head and kissed her softly on the tip of her nose, and then on the lips, before capturing her gaze with his own.

 _I want you—all of you—forever, Tauriel. I love you_.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Thanks so much to DaniellaBlue, Spamberguesa, Violette Penn, Eryn, and Theresa for the reviews. Thanks also, of course, to those who read, follow, and favorite in silence.**

 **I'm glad everyone thought the love scene so tastefully done, you've no idea how much I worried over that. Although there are perhaps two more love scenes to go in this story (one in this chapter), they are nowhere near as descriptive as the first.**

* * *

When at last the two lovers had caught their breath, Bard suggested they take the swim Tauriel had proposed upon his arrival. She was glad to take him up on it, as she could feel certain of her lower muscles tightening painfully.

Not that she was complaining, because the most incredible experience of her long life was worth the resulting discomfort.

They swam several laps in silence, each stretching and loosening tightened muscles. Tauriel tried to keep herself from following Bard's thoughts, wishing to give him time to himself as she certainly needed the time to gather her own, but every now and again, one thing or another would pop into her head and she'd smile—because most of it was about her and the lovemaking they'd just shared.

"What does our being bonded mean, precisely?"

Turning, she swam over to the center of the pool, where it was deepest; he waited there for her treading water. "Well, to put it bluntly, it means you are now my _herven_ —my husband."

Bard's eyes widened in shock. "We are married? Just because we laid together?"

With a clarity that was unexpected, Tauriel suddenly recalled words her mother had said to her just days before that mission to the north that had taken both her parents' lives. She said them out loud to Bard now.

"Among the Eldar, marriage is chiefly of the body, for it is achieved by bodily union and is at all times lawful." She gave him a pointed look. "I have told you before that Elves mate for life, and that is because in joining our bodies, we also join our _fëar_ —our souls—together. Although there is the rare elf that will indulge in pleasures of the flesh without creating a marriage bond, it is an act that really should not to be undertaken lightly—why would anyone lay with someone they have no desire to spend eternity with?"

"Our souls are now bound together?" he asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

 _Can you not feel the connection between us?_ Tauriel asked silently. It _is a_ fëa _bond, Bard. That means so much more than that my thoughts are open to you and yours to me. Our emotions are now also, as is whether we are ill or in pain_. _In fact, the mind-speak we share is a rare gift, even among bonded couples_.

She placed one hand over his heart, and taking one of his, placed it over hers. "Our hearts will also beat in a matched rhythm—already they are aligning."

Bard studied her in silence for so long that the thought she had made a monumental mistake made its way through to the forefront of her mind. The fear was quickly put to rest when he pulled her against his chest and crushed his mouth over hers. Tauriel responded immediately, opening her lips to meet his tongue with her own, and felt desire stir within her again.

 _If my thoughts and feelings are so open to you_ , she heard, _how could you fear you were mistaken? How can you not know that having you for my wife makes me happier than I can put into words?_

She studied him as she thought back, _But you did not speak for so long, and I could discern no particular thought from you_.

"I am sorry to have worried you—you must remember that I am not so versed in your customs as you," Bard replied aloud. "For a moment even I could not think straight, so surprised am I to learn that we are as good as wed—I certainly did not expect it to happen quite so soon. Believe me, _meleth nín_ , I most definitely want you. Did you not hear me say that I love you?"

A surge of emotion not her own flooded her mind. Tauriel's chest swelled and tears filled her eyes as she literally _felt_ the power of his love for her, magnified by the bond they now shared. She was greatly humbled to be on the receiving end of such devotion, and threw her arms around his neck to draw him into a fierce embrace, feeling completely unable to properly articulate her own feelings. But she didn't have to, as she suddenly felt the emotion shift, and she knew that Bard understood.

Within moments, the touch of their naked bodies against one another rekindled the fires of passion in both. Bard surprised Tauriel by taking her right there in the water; after moving them closer to shore where he could stand on the bottom, he lifted her by the hips and slipped his hardened length inside of her. She locked her arms and legs around him, noting that having him wasn't as uncomfortable as it had been the first time he'd pierced her. Soon she forgot all about being sore, her lips remaining fused to his as he lifted her in time with his thrusts. At long last they came together, their cries of pleasure mingled in each other's breath.

Tauriel kept her arm around Bard's waist after he set her on her feet and they waded to shore, needing his help to keep steady for the dizziness she felt in the wake of her climax. They dressed in dry clothes in contented silence, each stealing glances at the other. When they were ready to head back to camp, he took both sets of worn clothing in his left arm and clasped her left hand in his right, lacing their fingers together.

They had not walked far when an image of Kíli—as well as a disturbing thought—suddenly came to mind. Tauriel shoved it away as fast as she could, not wanting Bard to be upset that her thoughts had turned to another man so soon after she had shared herself with him.

"I shall only be upset if you hide things from me," he said, interrupting her thoughts and letting her know she hadn't been fast enough. "Pray, what troubles you?"

She sighed as she gave his hand a firm squeeze. "I do not wish to—as I once heard Gudmund say—kill the mood."

"My darling, I already know it has something to do with Kíli. You might as well share with me what's on your mind."

Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes—she so did not wish to hurt his feelings, and feared she might. "I am sorry. I do not know why he came to mind, but I find myself suddenly wondering if… if he would be happy for me that I have found love again, or if he would have desired me to mourn him longer. For that matter, what will your people think of my moving on so soon? What will my own say?"

Bard paused and drew her to a stop. She could not figure out what he was feeling, which could have been a result of their bond being so new or his being mortal—there was no way to be sure which.

"Allow me to ask you this…" he began. "What does your heart tell you? Do _you_ feel that you have given it to another too soon?"

Looking into his eyes, Tauriel felt the love in his heart yet again. It seemed to reach out to her own, wrapping around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night, and in that moment she felt peace wash over her.

"No," she said at last, a smile gracing her lips. "I did not think it possible just days ago, but then perhaps I am thinking too much these days—over-analyzing that which I should just let myself feel. My heart must have known before my mind that I was ready love again, for surely you know that even when I agreed to courtship, I had my reservations. Perhaps we were bonding already, but my grief would not allow me to see or feel it. Yet when I sensed you at the edge of the clearing, I felt no doubts. No hesitation. I knew only that I desired to be with you."

He smiled at her words. "In that case, my darling, do not have a care as to what others will think of our union. For only he or she who mourns can know when they are ready to move on."

Tauriel stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her ear over his heart as she had done before and smiling at its steady beat. Bard returned her embrace with his free arm, tucking her head under his chin and saying with silent words,

 _I may not have known him near as long as you, but I should think that Kíli would not mind that you have found love again. I daresay he would rather have you happy instead of fading away in grief_.

They moved on after a moment, and when at last they reached the company's campsite to find only the guards awake, he pulled her with him toward the tree dwelling. Tauriel resisted being led inside, leading Bard to ask, "What is the matter? Did you not say we are now wed?"

"By the laws of the Eldar, yes," she replied. "But we have no such recognition in the eyes of your people. It would do no good for either of us to be discovered in a position which your customs would consider compromising."

He groaned, but conceded her point with a nod. "Very well—but soon you and I shall discuss amending our circumstances, that we may take our rest together every night."

Bard then drew her to him, once more sealing their lips together in a passionate kiss. _And so that I may lay with you each night and show you all the pleasures a husband can give to his wife_.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _herven_ \- husband

 _fëar_ \- spirits/souls


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Once more, I thank the following for their reviews - DaniellaBlue, Violette Penn, Eryn, IsabelleBrown, Theresa, and Janine. Thanks also to those going on this journey with me in silence.**

 **Violette - Think back to the chapters where the expedition was discussed, and the conversations Bard has had with Thranduil and others. He mentioned going to Rohan.**

* * *

It was not long after dawn's breaking that a messenger came to the camp. He was the apprentice of the weaponsmith, and had come to inform Tauriel that the knives she had commissioned were ready. As Bard and the children were still abed, she went over to Halia—who was up with a fussy Beryl—to let her know she would be back soon.

Once on the path, the _ellon_ offered her quiet congratulations on her union—and Tauriel was suddenly reminded that other elves would know she was now one of a bonded pair. They would know from just a look into his eyes and from the timbre of his voice that Bard had bonded to an elf.

Given that it was likely every elf in the vicinity knew she had been living in Dale for months, and was now traveling with the man's company on this political pilgrimage, it would not take long at all for them to figure out just who each of them had bonded to. Bard needed to wake up soon so she could warn him, as she knew he had a meeting scheduled with Celeborn about having supplies sent to Dale while the company continued on their journey.

At the Lothlórien forge, Tauriel found that her knives had been replicated exactly. She could not keep the smile from her face as she took them in hand, twirling them forward and then backward to acquaint herself with their balance and weight. She stepped away from the smith and his apprentice to make a few practice slashes through the air, as the new knives felt foreign though their heft was the same as those she'd lost in Halken.

Finally she slipped them into the scabbards on her belt, then raised her arm in salute and bowed respectfully. " _Hennaid_ ," she said as she straightened. "What price am I to pay for your craftsmanship?"

The smith offered her a smile. "You owe me nothing, _hiril nín_."

Tauriel frowned. "That is most generous of you, but surely you would not refuse ample compensation for your work."

"I give them to you freely," he told her. "Consider the knives a gift in honor of your union. The _adan_ is very lucky to have you."

A blush crept into her cheeks, and finding herself no longer able to hold the older elf's gaze, muttered another thank-you and took her leave. As she walked back toward camp, she sensed Bard waking at last. That his first conscious thought was of her and the night they had shared brought a smile to her face and warmth to her heart.

 _Aur maer_ , _meleth nín_ , she thought.

 _To you as well_ , _my darling wife_ , he returned.

Hearing him call her "wife" sent a thrill through Tauriel that had her smiling wider. So many days and nights had passed after the battle in which she had thought her heart lost forever in grief. Now she knew it had been with her all along—perhaps a little bent, but not entirely broken. She would never be able to thank Bard enough for everything he had done to help her heal, first with his friendship and then with his love.

 _All you need do to thank me is return my love_ , Bard said in her mind.

 _And I shall, my darling husband, every day for the rest of your life._

 _Where are you? You're not in camp._

 _I am on my way back to the camp from the forge—the smith's apprentice came to tell me earlier that my knives were done. By the way, I was reminded of something I was remiss to inform you of last night about bonding._

 _What is that?_ he asked.

 _Elves can sense when another elf is bonded—the connection resonates in their aura, and it takes but a look or a word from the one bonded for another elf to know of it_ , she replied. _Though you are mortal, it is likely they will be able to sense it in you as well—and it is without doubt that they will all presume we have mated to each other, given our previously established relationship. Lothlórien's weaponsmith gifted my new fighting knives to me in celebration of my union_.

 _That sounds pleasantly…embarrassing_.

Tauriel chuckled as she entered the clearing and caught sight of Bard in front of the tree dwelling talking to his children. He looked over as she stepped from the trees, a broad smile on his face.

 _Hello, wife_.

Though she smiled, she gave a minute shake of her head, telling him silently, _You're going to draw attention to yourself. The more we use the link we share, the stronger it resonates, and the easier it will be for other elves to read our bond. If you've no wish to answer uncomfortable questions about our coupling, we should keep these silent exchanges to a minimum until after we depart_.

Bard looked chagrined at that and she felt him consciously withdraw, though a muted hum in the back of her mind told her they were still connected. That he was able to do that within just a few hours of bonding was rather remarkable, as she'd heard it could take months to gain that kind of control. They would both have to practice going silent, no doubt, if they wanted any semblance of privacy—even a husband and wife had things they desired to keep to themselves.

" _Aur maer_ , my darling," he said as she stepped up to him at last, then took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. " _Guren linna gen cened_."

Tauriel grinned. "And you said your Sindarin was not up to conversational," she teased playfully. When he released her, she offered greetings to the children.

"Where did you go so early?" Sigrid asked.

Drawing her knives, the elf twirled them flawlessly. "To get these. I am most pleased with the smith's work—they are just like the pair I had before."

Replacing the weapons in their sheaths, she gestured to the girls. "Come, we should get breakfast started. Your father will need extra energy for more politicking today with Lord Celeborn."

"Make it a good breakfast—I should not like to be disturbed by a rumbling stomach!" Bard called after them, leading his son to laugh.

* * *

After the morning meal, the Company began making preparations for their departure. They would not be leaving until the following day, but had taken to heart Gudmund's suggestion to pack up all unnecessary items now in order to make their egress from Lothlórien smoother come next morn. It would also leave the entirety of their last afternoon and evening free to do whatever they pleased before it was time to begin marching again—for it was expected they would be walking for five days before they reached Edoras, the capital city of Rohan.

Bard informed Tauriel through their connection that Celeborn had indeed noticed he had formed a marriage bond—he made note of it the moment their eyes met and had offered his congratulations. She felt a flush creep up her neck when he relayed that the elf lord had said she would make a fine wife for him.

Sigrid and Tilda were looking after Magnus's boys while he was off with Bard—the two had spoken as Bard had planned about the future King's Guard. The seasoned soldier had had given him the names of several men, and a few women, whom he thought trustworthy and suited to the protection of the royal family. Bain was on watch around the camp, though it had hardly been a necessary duty for any of them as ensconced as they were in the capital of the Golden Wood. With most of their belongings packed away and the children occupied, it had left Tauriel with her afternoon free.

She took it upon herself to wander, no particular destination in mind. The elf simply desired to attune herself with nature as she had not done since before Thorin's Company had appeared in Mirkwood last fall. She listened to the sounds of the birds in the sky, the forest creatures on the ground, and even the pulse of life within the trees themselves. It suffused her with joy to feel such vibrance all around.

Tauriel stopped short when she realized her wanderings had taken her into…she wasn't sure what to call it. It seemed a private place. There was a small waterfall pouring from the rock formation to her right that pooled in a depression scooped out of a low boulder. In the center of the space was a basin; it sat on a pedestal and reminded her of a birdbath like the ones she had seen in Dale.

"It is not a birdbath."

Startled at the sound of a voice behind her, Tauriel gasped and spun around. A serene-faced Galadriel stood there, adorned in a pale blue gown of silk with a circlet of silver on her head. Disturbed once again by the feeling of familiarity that overcame her—and the fact that she had not heard the other woman's approach—she was slow to bow her head in respect.

"My Lady," she said by way of greeting. "Forgive me if I have trespassed into a private place."

"Will you look into the mirror?"

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Aur maer_ – Good morning

 _Guren linna gen cened_. – My heart sings at seeing you.


	32. Chapter 32

A frown furrowed Tauriel's brow. "What mirror?"

A faint smile came to Galadriel's face as she stepped past her and walked over to the waterfall. She took the silver pitcher that sat on the rim and filled it, then moved to stand next to the basin.

As she appeared to expect her to join her there, Tauriel walked over and stood across from the Lady of Light. "Is this some sort of scrying device?" she asked as a thought occurred to her.

Galadriel's smile grew for a moment, then fell as she poured the water into the basin. "Will you look into the mirror?" she asked again.

Curiosity bloomed in Tauriel's mind, but so did a strong urge to refuse. "I do not know if I should," she said. "For some it is best not to know what Destiny has in store for them."

"You may see the future, but you may also see the past. You may see the here and now. I cannot tell you what the mirror will show—even the wisest are unaware."

Although trepidation continued to trickle up and down her spine, the younger _elleth_ nevertheless gave in to her curiosity and bent her head to look into the water. A cloud bloomed as though some milky liquid had been poured in. A moment later it disappeared, and showed her the clearest image of her parents she had seen in six centuries. Tears sprang to Tauriel's eyes even as she smiled—her imagination had not been far from the mark. Her mother was indeed beautiful, with vibrant red hair and bright blue eyes. Her father was tall and broad of chest and shoulders, a handsome face under his long black hair, with a pair of green eyes that matched those of the young, red-haired child he held.

It was a lovely, loving family she saw, posing as though having their portrait painted.

" _Naneth_ _ar_ _Adar_ …" she said softly, wondering what had happened to that portrait.

The image shifted, and she saw the day she learned her parents had been killed; a weeping Tauriel was being led to a room in Thranduil's fortress by Legolas, where she curled into a ball on the bed and sobbed. An expression of sympathy came to his face and he sat beside her, rubbing her back in slow circles. The image in the water changed again—she now saw the sparring match that had earned her a place in the Guard. She had fought against her prince and won, and it was one of the very few times Thranduil had shown anything other than indifference in his expression—for the briefest of moments, he had actually seemed proud of her.

Maybe he had been telling the truth a fortnight ago, and had actually once cared for her as a father might.

Her king's visage disappeared only to be replaced with one that drew a gasp from her. Kíli lay on the table in Bard's old Lake-town home, thrashing wildly as the poison from the orc arrow he'd taken to the leg tried its best to kill him. The image shifted again to show the two of them standing on the shore of the Long Lake, when he had placed the rune stone in her hand and told her to keep it as a promise. Yet another shift, and now she saw that awful moment on Ravenhill when Bolg had pierced his staff through the dwarf's chest, killing him almost instantly.

"Why?" Tauriel begged with a strangled cry, tears now spilling freely down her cheeks. "Why must I be tortured when I have just found peace?"

Vaguely, her mind registered that Bard was sensing her distress—his concern was strong, but Tauriel found she could not answer, entranced as she now was by the mirror before her. She tried to look away but found she could not.

The image in the water shifted again. She saw herself and Bard that night in the watchtower, when they had each declared their friendship for the other. It changed to the day in the barracks' training yard, when she had first realized she was attracted to him—likely it was the same moment he had realized his attraction to her, given his reaction. Then she saw the day he had stood with her in the Great Hall and told her he wanted her to stay.

That image was followed by the night in Mirkwood when he had overheard her telling Sigrid not to get her hopes up. The pain in Bard's expression pierced her heart, and then the imaged changed to the moment of their first kiss.

Tauriel smiled, relief flooding her now that the painful past was over. But even as she watched the scene shift to the night before, when desire had overtaken her and she had bound her soul to Bard's, she tried again to look away. The mirror could now only show her the future, and she didn't want to know. She did not want to see what lay ahead, yet try as she might she found she could not take her eyes from it.

"I don't want to see anymore!" she cried desperately, her hands now holding the edge of the basin in a white-knuckled grip. "Make it stop!"

"I cannot. The mirror will release you when it has shown you what you are meant to see," Galadriel replied.

The images flew by faster now—she and Bard were recognized as husband and wife in a ceremony before the people of Dale. They sat before the hearth in the foyer of the manor, a child in her arms that could only be theirs. Next, they were crowned King and Queen. More images passed of their years together, including more children. Dale prospered and grew. For all of this, Tauriel could not help but feel joy, but she knew what was coming. It was the inevitable ending she knew would come but had refused to acknowledge, because she knew the heartbreak was one she would not endure.

"I don't want to watch him die! Please don't make me watch him die!"

But she did. The last image was that of an aged Bard, his hair white and his handsome face lined with the advance of many years. He lay in a grand bed and she sat beside it, her face the same as it was now and would ever be, looking down on him with tears in her eyes as she held his hand and he breathed his last.

" _No!_ " Tauriel screamed, and with every ounce of her will she could muster, threw herself away from the horrible vision and fell to the ground. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths as she fought vainly to wipe what she had seen from her mind. Bard was trying to reach her—she could feel his desperation—but she could not bring herself to answer.

How could she face him, now that she had seen his end?

 _I can't_ , she thought, feeling her heart suddenly rend itself in two. _I can't do this. I cannot watch him waste away, it will kill me_.

Pain greater than that she had felt witnessing the death of Kíli squeezed her heart, and for a moment she forgot where she was. She only knew that she had to get away, as far away as she could. Rising on unsteady legs, she stumbled blindly out of the clearing—Galadriel's voice as she called after her registering only faintly. She had to get to her horse. She had to get her things.

She had to go.

* * *

Bard was helping load wagons with crates of seeds, tools, and textiles that would head for Dale the next morning when his heart suddenly squeezed tight inside his chest. Startled, his steps faltered and he nearly dropped the crate in his arms.

" _Lhûgdagnir?_ " queried the elf beside him. "Are you well?"

Ignoring him, Bard concentrated on the anxiety now crowding his mind—it was not his own, thus he knew without doubt that something had greatly disturbed Tauriel.

 _Tauriel? My darling, speak to me. What's happening?_

The distress he felt from her grew, and then suddenly there was relief. She was thinking of him now and it was a comfort to her; it pleased him that he was able to bring her peace. But just as suddenly as her pain was dispelled, it roared back with a vengeance. So strong was her fear now that it drove Bard to his knees and left him gasping for breath. The elves around him paused in their work and turned to stare, and he was vaguely aware of someone taking him by the arm and helping him to his feet.

Bard blinked as he looked at the man—it was Celeborn who held him steady. "Tauriel," he managed in a raspy voice. "Something's wrong."

"Go to her," the elf-lord said, pushing him toward a path out of the loading area.

Bard surged forward on shaky legs. He called to Tauriel through their bond over and over, but she did not reply. That worried him. Had she been injured? If so, how?

He ran through the trees without paying attention to where he was going, and stopped short when he came off the path into an open area he had never seen before. To his left there was a rock formation with a small, natural waterfall, and in the middle of the space stood what appeared to be a birdbath. The water in the basin was smoking as though it had been on fire but there was no one about, yet he was sure that Tauriel had been here. He could sense her presence resonating in the space—was this where she had been frightened?

"My Lord, what's happening?"

Turning sharply, Bard saw that Magnus had followed him. Of course he had.

"I've no time to explain, but I must find Tauriel— _now_."

His self-appointed bodyguard replied with only a nod. The two ran out together and turned onto another path, one that would take them to the training grounds. If Tauriel had engaged one of the other elves in a sparring match and been injured, she might still be there.

She was not, though several elves who stared curiously at their hurried arrival were. A frustrated growl escaped him. "Where is she?!"

He tried reaching out to her through the bond again. _Tauriel, my darling, please—tell me where you are. Let me help you!_

The only response he got was silence, and a sensation of bone-chilling sorrow.

"Let us check back at camp, my Lord," suggested Magnus.

Bard nodded and they ran off again. At their campsite, Sigrid ran to him as soon as he and Magnus entered the clearing.

"Da, what's going on?" she asked, her tone full of worry.

"Tauriel—was she here?"

His daughter nodded. "She ran through here a few minutes ago. I could tell she was terribly upset, but she would not speak to me. She said nothing at all—just packed up her bedroll, took her bow and quiver from the wagon and also a waterskin, then she went to the stables. She didn't even put Fera's saddle on her, just climbed on and took off. Da, what happened? Did the two of you fight or something?"

"Nay, I've no idea what happened," Bard replied. "Did you see which direction she went?"

"She went south, my Lord," said Dorna, who was passing by as he spoke.

Sigrid frowned. "I believe she went west."

Dorna shook her head. "She started that way, but I saw her turn to the south. I'm sure of it."

"Thank you, Dorna," Bard said as he ran past her and headed for the stables, Magnus on his heels. He hurried to place a bridle over Huron's head and maneuver him out of the stall, his guard doing the same with his own horse. Neither bothered with a saddle as it would take too much time—he had to catch up to Tauriel before she got too far away. He had to find out what had frightened her and hopefully talk some sense into her.

If they were husband and wife now, why could she not have confided in him?

He made another attempt to get her attention through the bond. She remained silent, though he was forced to admit that he knew so little about the way they were connected that he could not say for certain whether it was because she could not hear him or was refusing to reply. Bard prayed she was not ignoring him, for surely after last night she knew she could trust him to support her no matter what the problem was. That's what a man did when he loved a woman as much as he loved Tauriel.

Suffusing the connection with that love, he poured his concern and his hope that she would just stop and let him reach her into it. He would do whatever was demanded of him in order to right what was wrong so that she would come back.

All he felt in return was anguish. Whatever had happened had wounded his elf deeply, and it pained him that she had not given him the chance to help her.

He and Magnus rode hard and fast for over an hour. They saw no sign of Tauriel, nothing to indicate she had even come this way—but then, she was adept at covering her tracks. Still, Bard pressed on, and before he realized it, he and his companion had cleared the southern border of Lothlórien.

Tauriel had vanished.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Naneth ar Adar_ \- Mother and Father


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: I am posting this chapter early because I am hoping to get a message out. And because you all deserve a little more for the shock I gave you yesterday.**

 **Violette - I don't know if you'll read this, though I hope you do. You're right about only one thing - that you're wrong. Dorna's part to play, while not yet over, is not at all what you think. Yes, she was created for dramatic effect, but she is a rival for Tauriel only in her own mind. I do hope you'll come back and finish the story.**

 **This and the next few chapters are solely from Bard's perspective. I'll be switching back and forth between he and Tauriel every three to four chapters for a while, until she comes to her senses and heads home again.**

* * *

"My Lord," said Magnus. "I think we should head back. The company will be wondering where we've gone."

Bard did not want to go back—he wanted to keep searching for Tauriel until he found her. But he had to go back. He knew this as surely as he knew that some unknown thing had given her such a fright she felt her only option was to run away. There were thirty-nine other people who were depending on him, and he could not turn his back on them for the sake of one.

He felt a strong urge to destroy something, even if it caused him physical pain. Anything was preferable to feeling as utterly broken as he did in that moment, when he realized that his love had not been enough.

With a reluctant nod, he turned Huron back toward the trees. Though he got the feeling Magnus had many questions, the other man remained blessedly silent the entire ride back to camp. As they were no longer in a hurry, it took them almost twice as long to return as it had to reach the border. When they arrived, he saw that nearly the entire company had gathered to await them. There were a number of gasps when it became clear that Tauriel was not with them; Tilda turned her face into Sigrid's shoulder and cried openly, while the elder girl's tears fell in silence. Bain set his jaw, clearly more angry than upset. He knew he should speak to the children, make some effort to comfort them, but he could not.

His heart was just as broken, if not more so.

* * *

Throughout the remainder of the afternoon and evening, Bard holed himself up inside the tree dwelling, leaving Gudmund and Peri to take care of any problems that arose. The children stayed with him, Tilda curled up on one bed having cried herself to exhaustion, with Sigrid lying beside her. Bain sat on the other bed; his eyes were closed but his father knew he was not asleep. Bard sat at the dining table with his head in his hands.

What was worse than not knowing why Tauriel had gone was the fact that he could still feel her through their bond. He sensed she was very far away—which was the understatement of the age—and he had little doubt that she had run fast to get as far away from him as possible.

 _Why, Tauriel?_ he wondered, not sure anymore if she could hear him. He was not sure she would listen even if she could. It did not matter—the question was there just the same.

 _Why did you leave? What happened to you that was so terrible you did not feel you could confide in me? Why was my love not strong enough for you?_

These questions had plagued him all afternoon, and he had not a single answer. Not for himself, not for his children, not for his people.

Bard's brooding was interrupted by a knock at the door. He looked up as Magnus opened it slowly—the soldier had positioned himself outside to turn people away, that his family might have some peace. He had done it without even being asked to do so. Bard made a mental note to thank him later.

"Sire, 'tis Lord Celeborn to see you," the guard said softly.

Knowing he could not simply dismiss his host, Bard nodded with reluctance and stood to greet the elf. Celeborn actually looked graver than usual as he stepped across the threshold, which was small comfort to his tortured mind.

"Forgive me for disturbing you," the elf-lord began, "but I thought I would inform you that I have spoken with border guards from all around my lands. Lady Tauriel was seen riding west toward the Misty Mountains about seven hours ago."

Seven hours, he mused. Right about the time he and Magnus had been riding south in search of her, she was crossing the western border.

"I _knew_ she went west!" Sigrid declared, sitting up as she spoke. "I don't know why Dorna said she saw her go south."

"She probably doubled back on her trail, Sig," Bain muttered. "Started west, but turned south because she knew she was being watched—then turned back west when she was out of sight of the camp. It's obvious, isn't it? She didn't want anyone to follow her."

"Thank you for coming to speak with me, Lord Celeborn," Bard said, hoping to stave off an argument between the children. "I appreciate that you took the time to ask of her at all."

Celeborn stepped closer. "Do you still feel her?" he asked softly.

"Unfortunately I do," he said, a grimace upon his face. "Though Varda knows I wish I did not."

"Do not wish your bond away so hastily. That you can still sense her means it is strong."

Bard scoffed. "What good does a strong bond do me when the one with whom I share it has chosen to flee? Not even a day has passed since our union and she now runs from me, so it might as well have never been."

"Union? What are you talking about, Da?" his daughter queried.

He sighed heavily and dropped back into the chair he had vacated. "It does not matter, Sigrid. It is over. We should neither of us have got our hopes up."

* * *

The next morning, the company gathered in preparation to depart. Whispered conversations halted anytime Bard or one of his children came near. He ignored them, of course, as he was used to being talked about. He did hope, however, that the juvenile behavior soon ceased, as his children did not need to suffer for his foolishness.

Halia, despite having the three orphans to look after, came over with them to help Sigrid prepare breakfast. Erina had intended to help as well, as Halia was adding to the training her mother had already given her by teaching her new and different ways of cooking. The little girl spent most of her time, however, with her arm around Tilda's shoulders in an effort to comfort her friend, who cried all through the meal and only picked at her food.

When everyone was finished and cooking utensils were packed away, Bard set the children in the wagon and returned to the tree dwelling to ensure it had been left as tidy as they'd found it. He noticed that Tilda had forgotten a doll on the bed she had shared with Sigrid and went to retrieve it, and as he reached for it, he sensed someone coming up behind him. A look over his shoulder showed him it was Galadriel.

The words she had spoken to his mind on the day of their arrival suddenly rushed back to him when he saw her radiance in the early morning sun: _Prepare yourself, Master Bowman. For there will be sorrow before you know your joy_.

He scowled and turned his face away from her. "I appreciate that you have come to see us off, my Lady, but I think it best you take your leave. I am in no mood to be civil at present."

"It grieves me that you are hurting, _Lhûgdagnir_ ," she said softly.

Bard snorted derisively. "Does it now?" he asked, his grip on the doll tightening. "Are you next going to deny that you knew this would happen? Did you not warn me before you ever looked upon my countenance that there would be sorrow?"

He turned to her then. "Perhaps it would have been better for all concerned had you simply informed me that elves and mortals do not mix well. Then, at least, I would have had some idea what to do about her leaving. Maybe I would have some idea how to comfort my daughters, who looked up to her as a mother-figure. Better yet, you ought have come right out and said she was going to leave me with a bloody broken heart, as then I'd not have slept with her at all!"

Galadriel, for her part, did not recoil from the heat of his anger. And it irked him that she did indeed look as though she was troubled by what had happened, because he did not want her pity. "I could no more prevent you loving Tauriel than I can command the sun to rise and fall at my will," she said, her voice as gentle as before.

"Then more the fool am I," Bard replied with a shake of his head.

Her golden-crowned head tilted as she gazed at him with a scrutinizing expression. "You have no idea why she left, do you?"

"Of course not!" he countered thunderously. "Don't you think if I'd had any sodding idea why she was running away that I'd have tried harder to stop her?!"

"Tauriel looked into the mirror," the elf said evenly. "I believe it showed her a vision of the future in which she saw your death."

Her words brought the anger coursing through him to a grinding halt; it was replaced, momentarily, with confusion. _What mirror?_ he wondered briefly, before saying, "So what if she saw my death? Of course I am going to die someday, I am mortal. Death is the fate of all Men—it's not as if Tauriel was unaware of this."

Galadriel took a step further into the room, though she halted when he shot her a sour look. "You do not fully grasp the depth of your Elvish bride's emotions, nor the connection she shares with you, _Lhûgdagnir_. Violence in war is not the only way in which my kin might meet death—deep grief and a weariness of the world can lead to a fading of the spirit. Just imagine for a moment what it will do to her to remain as she is and yet watch the years change you, taking away your strength and virility until you are little more than a shell of who you are now, and you are at last called to the life that lays beyond the world for the race of Men. The vision made her aware that she will not survive the loss of you."

"She survived the death of her first love," Bard countered. "Surely she is strong enough to survive mine as well."

A faint smile graced the noble elf's lips. "That she was even able to love again is a miracle in itself, but then Tauriel's love for the dwarf Kíli was not the same as her love for you, Bard. Her soul was not bound to his as it is now to yours. She would have need of some great reason to remain after your passing, and the children she will bear for you—though her love for them shall run deep—will not be enough. Tauriel loves you that much."

Bard started when she mentioned children—he'd not even given the possibility of siring more any thought—but he shook it off. Clearly none would ever be born now.

He considered her last remark and scoffed. "Loves me, does she? She has a very amusing way of displaying her regard. Good day to you, my Lady."

Brushing past her, he exited the tree dwelling. After handing the doll up to Tilda, he walked stiffly over to Huron and climbed onto the horse's back. Bard took a look around—everyone was waiting for him. There were a number of armed elves gathered in the camp, border guards no doubt there to guide them on their way out of the wood. He noted Celeborn and Arwen both stepping up to Galadriel as she walked out of his home for the last four days, and offering a sharp nod to both, gave a kick to Huron's flank and took the lead.

He headed south, steadfastly ignoring the tug in his heart that yearned for him to go west.


	34. Chapter 34

**Because by now, you're all wondering what happened to Balin, Bofur, and Ori...**

* * *

Beyond the southern border of the Golden Wood, Bard saw a sight that was at once welcome and dreaded:

Balin, Bofur, and Ori were seated around a campfire about 100 yards from the tree line. While he was immensely pleased that they had safely returned from their sojourn into Moria, he was not looking forward to the questions they were sure to ask regarding Tauriel's absence.

The three dwarves stood immediately upon their appearance and waited for the company to come up alongside. Bard turned in his saddle and waved at the wardens who had led them out, receiving a nod from the point guard in return before he and his compatriots turned and disappeared into the trees once more. Turning back around, he studied the diminutive travelers before him. They looked rather worse for wear, as though they had done much fighting in their time away. Ori, in fact, was sporting a sling to go with the cut over his left eye.

"It pleases me to look upon your smiles once more, Master Dwarves," he greeted them as he gestured for Gudmund to lead the company on. "Have you waited here long for us?"

"Just overnight, my friend," said Balin. "We came here to await your appearance instead of returning to the previous campsite, because we did not think you would go north again before heading south. We guessed correctly, as you can see."

Bard gave a half-hearted grin, recalling he had said the words "this place" when he had spoken of where they should meet the company if they made it out of Moria alive—he had not actually meant the camp at the northern border, but a lesser-minded person might well have interpreted his words as such.

"I am glad you were able to discern my true meaning, though my words were not so specific as they ought have been," he said at last.

Bofur had been watching the column of travelers as they marched by, and looked up at him then. "Where's Tauriel?"

Feeling a scowl darken his features, Bard looked away from him. "She left," he said in a clipped tone. "Come, let us rejoin the company."

Without waiting for a reply, he urged Huron forward again. Three voices muttering in Khuzdul sounded immediately behind him as the dwarves hurriedly put out the fire and picked up their traveling gear. He ignored them—not because he did not understand their words, but because he knew what they were talking about and had no desire to elaborate.

It would be, by his estimation, a five day march to Edoras, though that did not take into account the possibility of stopping in any villages they might encounter along the way. Bard was eager to get back on the road and to the purpose of their journey, if only because it would distract him from the pain of not having a certain red-haired elf by his side. He did not want to think of her and yet yearned for her in equal measure. Longed to touch her, to make love to her again and again, and yet desired to rail at her for leaving him and the children in the manner she had chosen to do so.

How he wished he did not love her, and yet was glad that he did. Bard knew he was an emotional mess, already swaying from one extreme to the other, and so sent a fervent prayer to the heavens that he could get through this expedition without breaking down completely.

* * *

A week passed from the time the company left Lothlórien until at last they reached the capital of the nation of Rohan. They had crossed two rivers and stopped in three villages on the trek south, and now they approached the city-on-the-hill known as Edoras.

The first afternoon of their return, the dwarves spoke of Moria. They'd gone in to scout Khazad-dûm, and had remained undetected for the first two days.

The third day, when the goblins and orcs had discovered them, they'd been forced to fight their way out, and the last day they had spent trekking around Lothlórien to get to the meeting place. Balin's expression was grim when he said that it would indeed take a great host of his kin to reclaim the ancestral home of Durin's Folk—and given the state of things in Erebor, it would be decades yet before Dáin would even consider allowing such an endeavor to be undertaken.

On the sixth day, Bard had an episode over the course of the morning hours that had worried his children and the rest of the company. They all attributed it to food poisoning and he let them, but he knew the real reason he had been forced to lie down in the back of his family's wagon, his body wracked with pain and fever: Tauriel. Though she was many miles away, he knew without a doubt that something had happened to her, and the misery he'd been forced to endure because of the bond they shared had—for those few hours—set his anger at her aside and replaced it with worry. He prayed every moment he hurt that the Valar would watch over her and send her the help she obviously required. He was thankful, for both of them, when at last the pain subsided and he was himself again.

Tauriel had not died, of that he was certain. For as sure as he'd felt her pain, he knew he would _know_ if she were gone. The quiet hum of their connection had not once ceased—in fact, it was a constant presence he tried his best to ignore.

Their number had actually grown in the last seven days, though some of those now travelling with them did so only because they had business to conduct in the capital. A handful of others, totaling seven—they being unwed young men with little or no family to speak of—had declared they would join his people and return with them to Dale. Bard knew not whether they would truly stay, but their enthusiasm for the "coming adventure" was infectious. He felt better in their presence than he had for most of the week since Tauriel's departure.

The emotional pain caused by her leaving was not gone completely—he doubted it ever would be. But the unblighted vigor of these younger men allowed him to forget, though just for a little while, how much he still hurt.

Shaking off his melancholy, Bard called for Gudmund and Peri to join him at the fore of the company. No doubt they had already been seen by tower guards, but still they approached the gate of the city with caution.

"Should we perhaps have the company camp outside the city, sire?" Gudmund asked.

"Nay—what would be the point of it?" Bard returned as they came near the bottom of the hill. "A city this size is sure to have more than one inn, and I should like to have our people well rested before beginning the march to Minas Tirith."

When at last they reached the gate, though it was open Bard called a halt and spoke to the guards there. "Greetings, Men of Rohan. I am Bard, son of Galen, Lord of the renewed city of Dale. My company and I are on a pilgrimage to garner trade and peaceful relations with other realms, and I desire to speak with your Lord if he is agreeable."

The two guards looked at one another, then the one on the left said, "I bid you welcome to Edoras, Lord Bard. I regret that our king is… Well, he's not like to be of mind to receive visitors, but I daresay his son the prince would be sure to receive you."

Bard tried to restrain a frown. Thus far, every place the company had visited they had been well received. He had not expected to be unwelcome, but then he recalled rumors saying Fengel of Rohan was an ill-tempered sort who clashed with his own generals and whose only son did not even reside in the realm of his birth. They would indeed have to be cautious here.

Offering a polite nod, he said to the guards, "Very well then. I should very much like to meet with your prince if _he_ is agreeable."

The guard who had spoken to him called up to the battlement over the gate in what Bard assumed was Rohirric. A moment later another soldier ran down to take his place. "Come," the first said. "I will lead you to the Golden Hall."

Inclining his head once more, Bard gestured the company forward. The people who had joined the caravan because they had their own business here broke off and went about it, leaving the company to tread ever upward under the curious and watchful gazes of the townsfolk. At last they reached the top of the hill and gathered together in the courtyard before a grand hall. The end of the thatched roof, at the peak—and indeed over every door that led out of the place—were two horse heads that faced one another. It was a motif he had seen on every building they had passed on their way up.

"Wait here, my Lord—" their escort began, but was interrupted by the opening of the door to the hall. Out strode a very well-dressed man around Bard's own age, his finery marking him as a gentleman, if not a nobleman.

The behavior of the guards on the steps of the palace and the soldier from the gate said he was much more, as they bowed their heads almost reverently. Bard alighted from his horse as he came down the steps toward them.

" _Suilaid mellyn_ ," he greeted them, his use of Sindarin over Westron a surprise. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Thengel, son of Fengel, Prince of the Kingdom of Rohan."

Bard nodded respectfully. "Greetings, my Lord Thengel. I am Bard, son of Galen, Lord of the renewed city of Dale. May I—"

"You're the dragonslayer?" Thengel asked.

"Indeed I am," he replied, surprised again that he knew.

The prince stepped up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well then, I bid you even greater welcome. Obviously word has reached us of the demise of Smaug—no doubt yours is a tale of which songs will be sung for many generations. My father may actually want to meet you himself, for I've no doubt he'll wish to hear if you know anything of the treasure hoard in the mountain."

Though his words were light, a flicker in his expression told Bard that the stories brought to Lake-town by traveling merchantmen were not entirely without merit. "I will gladly answer his questions as well as I am able," he said carefully, "though you know as well as I the reputation of dwarves and their treasure. Though they have proven themselves peaceful neighbors, King Dáin and his kin will likely guard that gold with near as much jealousy as the dragon before them."

Thengel glanced over at the three dwarves in the company, then gave a knowing smile. Bard took the opportunity to introduce Gudmund and Peri, and followed that with an explanation of why they were come to Rohan. The prince commended him on the undertaking of such a journey, saying he had no doubt they would find trade in Edoras to be to their liking.

"However, I am glad you have plans to take your kin through Minas Tirith," he added, "for I am to return there in two days' time myself—we can travel together. I am well acquainted with Turgon, who is Ruling Steward in Gondor, and his son Ecthelion. They are both men who are wise and good of character. There I am sure you will make your city a great ally."

That he did not say the same of Rohan was not lost on Bard; he got the feeling that while Fengel was on the throne, the assistance of the Rohirrim might be questionable—but when time came for Thengel to take his father's place, he would have a friend in the horse lord.

He and the children, as well as Peri and Gudmund, were then offered rooms in Meduseld to take their rest until the evening meal. The remainder of the company were directed to various inns, their wagons and horses given space in the stables of the establishments where they would sleep. Magnus gently insisted he be allowed to remain with Bard, as it was his sworn duty to see to his lord's safety. Thengel agreed heartily that he and his sons should have rooms in the Golden Hall as well, saying he knew what duty was and respected his desire to keep to it.

When they were left to their privacy after a servant had given instructions to the location of the dining room and the privies, Bard spoke with Magnus about arranging a guard for his room anytime he was away, as the chest of gold and silver would be kept there. Though their host had been most gracious, they were still in a strange land and knew virtually no one, and so he could not trust that some servant or guard of the palace might not get curious about the trunk and attempt to look into it. Magnus agreed it was a wise precaution, and so fetched Tormen, whom he had also named for the King's Guard, from a nearby inn. The lad would share the room of Bard and Bain, and stand guard outside it should both be gone for any length of time.

Dinner that evening was an interesting affair. Thengel introduced them all to his father, King Fengel. He did not seem as ill-tempered as Bard had heard tell of, but he was indeed eager to hear about the slaying of the dragon and the riches in the mountain, as the prince had predicted.

"I have seen little of the hoard," Bard replied smoothly. "Compensation was given to my people for the loss of their homes, nothing more—and that was difficult enough to get the dwarves to part with."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Had Thorin had his way about it, they'd not have received one coin of the treasure they'd been promised. Then Bard recalled what Balin had told him of the dragon sickness his cousin had suffered, that it had warped Thorin's mind to the point of madness—and that was why he had at first denied their claim. He had managed at last to break its hold, the old dwarf had said, before he had charged into battle alongside their kin from the Iron Hills. It was Balin's firm belief that had the King under the Mountain lived to retain his crown, he would have kept his word as given before the Master's home.

Still, he was surprised after the battle was over when Dáin announced he would honor "the word of the dead" and gave to them Bilbo's fourteenth share—in exchange for the return of the Arkenstone, as the hobbit had helped arrange by pilfering the King's Jewel in the first place. His people had more money right now than they knew what to do with, the vast majority of it being locked away in a large room at the Great Hall in Dale, one with no windows that was under constant guard. He had left specific instruction with Hilda and Percy that should travelers come to trade in their absence, they use what was needed, but to keep record of it all, as though he was gone he knew he would be held accountable for it.

Bard was snapped out of his reverie by Bain when his son gave him a kick under the table. He looked to the boy who nodded at Fengel, and so he turned his attention back to the king.

"Forgive me, my Lord," he said sheepishly. "Your queries reminded me of the battle, which was hard fought and harder won. I regret that my thoughts did wander."

"No doubt you and yours were brave in the face of almost certain death," Fengel observed. "I asked, though, how come you accepted the presence of dwarves in your company for this journey, if they have been so greedy with their winnings? After all, was it not their waking of the dragon that drove you from your homes in the dead of night?"

With a nod, he replied, "Indeed it was. However, though they guard their treasure with a jealousy unmatched, Dáin Ironfoot and his kin have been otherwise neighborly. And as the Lonely Mountain is so close to Dale, I thought it best to remain on peaceful terms—thus, the acceptance of the three dwarves who accompany us is small price to be paid to maintain that peace."

Fengel regarded him over the rim of his wine goblet. "Spoken like a good politician, my Lord Bard."

"Spoken like a good king, Father," said Thengel, who ignored the dark look directed his way in response.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Suilaid mellyn_ – Greetings, friends


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Thank you to DaniellaBlue, Eryn, and Theresa for the reviews. Thanks to everyone following along in silence as well.**

 **Yes, we got a glimpse of Fengel and Thengel - made sense seeing as the company was in Edoras. Thanks to those of you who said I portrayed them as imagined.**

* * *

As Prince Thengel had said, trade in Edoras was to everyone's liking.

Several members of the company bought horses from a young man by the name of Téomas, who had taken over his father Téodor's stock when he had passed two winters before. He had been but fifteen springs at the time, he said to Bard, but he took such great care of his animals—which provided a good living for himself, his mother Breha, and his younger brother Bréden—that most of the people in Edoras already accepted him as a man.

It soon became clear why he had offered that particular anecdote: Anytime Sigrid was near, he stood up straighter. He spoke with a clearer voice, though every once in a while he would stutter, following her with his eyes rather than paying attention to what he was saying. Sigrid, in turn, would more often than not find her way toward his stables any time she was out of Meduseld, blushing and looking down at her feet whenever he spoke to her. The first full day of the Company's stay, Téomas offered to teach Sigrid to ride a horse.

Bard sighed as he watched them from afar on the second day. It was a pleasure, despite his own heartache, to see his daughter take her first real interest in a young man, but he feared she would be heartbroken come the next morning when the Company departed. What point was there in the Valar allowing these two young people to become infatuated with one another if it was only to lead to anguish?

"My Lord, if I may speak with you?"

He glanced to his right to find the boy's mother at his side, and offered Breha a nod. "Good afternoon, Madam. I would be glad to speak with you—what is on your mind?"

"Same thing that is on yours, Lord Bard," Breha replied, glancing over to where their children stood; Téomas was leaning on the door of a stall while Sigrid stood on the outside of it, the two of them deep in conversation.

"I am aware they have known one another hardly two days, my Lord, but it is clear to any who looks upon them that those two already share a deep regard for one another," the woman went on.

He nodded in agreement. "Aye, 'tis true. It pains me, however, that they shall both be disappointed come the morrow when my people depart the city with His Highness."

"What if they are not?"

Turning to her with a raised brow, Bard asked, "Pray, what do you suggest?"

Breha looked for a moment at the two teenagers, then back at him with a solemn expression. "We shall join you. Téomas has already hinted that he does not wish to be parted from Sigrid, and I have considered proposing we leave Edoras in your company so that he need not be."

Bard glanced over at Magnus, who had heretofore stood silent. His bodyguard merely lifted a shoulder in reply. With a shake of his head, he turned back to the lady beside him and sobered. "Madam, it will be a hard journey from here until at last we return to Dale. Many miles we have yet to travel and cities to visit. Are you truly certain that you are ready to give up your home and your people to reside in a foreign land with strangers?"

"If my prince can do it, so can I and mine," she replied. "Verily there are none here in Edoras with whom we are particularly close, and my own family is far out in the Westfold. I see them rarely, if at all. It would not be such a great task for my boys and I to make a life for ourselves in a new land. "

He studied her long and hard, and saw that her resolve was firm. Whether anything came of the infatuation between her son and his daughter or not, Breha was determined to give it every chance to blossom or wither as it would.

"And what of your stables?" he asked after a time. "By last count you still had thirty horses in your stock. What's to become of them should you join us?"

"We'll take them with us," Breha replied simply. "It will provide a continued trade for my son, and if the people here desire to purchase from our stock in the future—for it is true they are of the finest quality, our steeds—they'll travel to Dale to buy them if they desire them enough. And that will in turn further boost Dale's economy, to have travelers come from far and wide."

At that Bard had to laugh. "I do like your spirit, Madam," he admitted. "And it is true what you say about the economy, at least insofar as it could use that boon you speak of. So I shall accept you and your sons into my company and my city, so long as they are agreeable, Breha of Rohan."

Breha bowed her head in respect. "I thank you, my Lord. And I've no doubt at all that Téomas will be more than happy with relocating, so long as Sigrid will be there."

At that moment they heard his daughter laugh, and looked to see Téomas taking Sigrid's hand in his to place a light kiss upon the back of it. She blushed furiously, but her face was split into a wide smile.

The boy brought her happiness in the face of heartache, Bard mused. Who was he to take that away from her?

* * *

"No, Téomas, that's ridiculous! You can't do that!"

"And why not? They are my horses to do with as I like."

Bard heard the exchange as he approached the stables of Téomas to collect his daughter; Bain had said it was the last place he'd seen Sigrid. He walked around the corner of the large building to find the two teens facing off in front of the stall of a rather lovely brown and white paint, which he recognized as the mare the younger man had used to teach Sigrid to ride—something he'd regrettably never taken the time to do himself.

"What would your mother say about it?" Sigrid challenged, then turned a smile toward the horse as she nuzzled her shoulder.

"What would his mother say about what?" Bard asked, making his presence known to them.

Both teens jumped. Sigrid recovered quickly and said, "Da, tell him he's being ridiculous—he can't just give a horse away!"

"As the young man said a moment ago, they are his to do with as he likes," he told her. "To whom does he plan to give the horse and why?"

Sigrid's face flushed crimson as it had so many times over the last couple of days. Téomas grinned and replied for her, "I told Lady Sigrid I wished to gift her this mare as a going-away present, that she might think of me whenever she rides."

"And I told him it was too much!" Sigrid replied hotly. "What will people think if you just give a horse to someone you've only known two days?"

Unable to help himself, Bard laughed at the ironic mixture of indignance and propriety coming from his daughter. It was amusing to see her uphold the latter when she so clearly was smitten with both the horse and its owner—she had spoken of little else but the mare's gentle nature or the boy's skill with his animals since meeting them.

"They will either think me a fool or think me besotted, my Lady," Téomas replied to her question. "And I assure you, it is most definitely the latter."

With a bemused expression, Bard then said, "While most young men in the first days of courtship bestow flowers as a gift, if the boy desires to make a grand gesture of his affection for you, my daughter, who am I to advise against it?"

Sigrid turned to him with wide eyes. He laughed again—oh, it felt so good to laugh, though he was sorry it had to be at her expense. Téomas thanked him for his support.

"I probably should not have offered it, come to think of it," he said, "as you have certainly just raised the standard on first gifts. Besides…"

Stepping closer to the two, Bard placed a hand on the shoulder of each. "It will not be a going-away present. Your good mother has spoken to me about your family joining with our company."

"Really, Da?" "Did she really?" the teens exclaimed in unison, glancing at one another with wide smiles.

"It is true. She has gone to your home, Master Téomas, to begin what packing needs be done there. I came down to fetch Sigrid that she might begin her own for the march tomorrow…but I see now that she ought visit the saddle maker first."

Her cheeks brightened with color again, though Sigrid smiled warmly at him, then flashed a smile at Téomas before turning to the mare, who had not stopped nuzzling her. "I shall now have to think of a name for you," she said to her, before rubbing the horse's nose and walking away with a bounce in her step.

When she had taken her leave, Bard turned to the young man before him, then cast his glance at the horse that was now Sigrid's. "Quite generous of you indeed, young master, to part with such a fine horse without requirement of payment, when it was likely you may not have seen either her or her new owner again."

"I would have seen them again, my Lord," Téomas replied resolutely. "Call me a fool if you like, but I love Sigrid already. Don't ask me how it's possible when we're barely acquainted, I just know that's how I feel. As such, I'd have followed before long and then never left my lady's side. Perhaps my mother suspected this, and that's why she asked to go with you. She's already lost my father and fears to lose me as well. And why should we not go? There's sadly not much here for us in Edoras but memories."

Bard looked at Téomas, surprised by the boy's confession. At the same time, he was moved by it—what would it be like to be so young again, so innocent in many ways?

So not jaded by heartbreak, as he now was.

Glancing around at the horses in their stalls, he was reminded that they would now be traveling with thirty extra. However would they keep them all under control?

He turned to Téomas, who watched him with a thoughtful expression. Well, as he'd said, they were his horses—it was time to see if the bright young fellow had any ideas how to wrangle his herd.


	36. Chapter 36

As it turned out, the solution to keeping the horses in line was simple: A rope was thrown around each of their necks, the ends of which were tied to a light hitching yoke across their chests. Those not being ridden—there were twenty-five not under direct control of a person—were lined up two-by-two with the odd one at the rear, and more rope was strung down the middle connecting each yoke, the last directly to the horse's bridle.

Téomas and Sigrid (she named her horse Brennil, a Sindarin word for "lady") rode at the fore of the column, while his mother and brother each rode a horse in front of them. Three of the seven young men who'd already joined the company from the northern villages had been conscripted to help Téomas care for the herd, and the one of them with no horse of his own had brokered an agreement that in exchange for his help, he could have one of his choosing for payment. As the journey to Dale was to take several weeks still, Téomas had agreed.

There were a number of folk in Edoras who were sorry to see Breha and her boys go, if only because they had always bred fine steeds. Even the king said he was sorry to see such well-kept stock leave his lands—though Bard suspected his remark had more to do with the departure of his son than the horses. Theirs might be a relationship that was strained at best, but instinct told him there was still love in Fengel's heart for his heir.

Thengel rode beside him as the company moved out, and Bard was not remiss to the way the prince relaxed visibly almost as soon as they passed through the city gate. He conversed easily with the other man, much to his delight. His companion asked him what life had been like in Lake-town, what his plans were for Dale, and whether he was looking forward to the day his people would crown him King.

"I do not want to be a king," he confessed. "In truth, I did not even desire to be the master of my people, despite the nobility of my lineage. But leadership, whether I wished for it or not, had fallen into my hands after the dragon came. Over the days that first followed, I apparently made such an impression on my kin that they declared they would have me for a king. Seeing that I could not change their minds, I then resolved to do my utmost to earn their faith in me.

"It is why, my Lord, I have undertaken this journey. Dale will have need of strong ties to other lands in years to come. Those who pledge themselves in friendship to us will certainly receive our aid in return, when we are able to provide it."

Thengel nodded. "Your cause is noble and just, Lord Bard. And as I believe you to be a man of good character, I would happily ally Rohan with Dale. But I am not yet the king of my people, and such an accord can only be made by the king. Sadly, my father is not like to agree to any such alliance if there is no immediate benefit for him—of this I know you are already aware, as you are leaving now and I know that none has been made."

The prince sighed. "It is one reason, among many, that I keep residence in Gondor, the land of my mother's birth. I do not agree with many of my father's policies, and that has led to more disagreements between us than I care to count. I visit with him a few times each year, but regrettably, as soon as I arrive I find myself counting the days until I depart."

With a shake of his frame, Thengel wiped the brooding expression from his face and looked to Bard with a smile. "Tell me, Bard—is there a maiden among your people on whom you have your eye? Though you have already taken a wife who sadly passed too soon, you are still of an age to keep a woman happy for many years yet. A good king has need of a fine queen to rule beside him, and if I am not mistaken, that Dorna lass would certainly have you if you would but take notice of her."

"If that is so, then I am afraid she sets herself up for disappointment," Bard replied with more bite than he intended. "For Dorna knows as well as anyone in my company that no such attentions will be received from me."

Thengel studied him in silence for a long moment. "I take it you have been recently disappointed, _mellon nín_?" he asked quietly.

Bristling unintentionally at the prince's use of Sindarin, which he had learned was widely spoken in Gondor, Bard gave himself a hard mental shake. Too bad, he mused, that he could not so easily dismiss the annoying hum in the back of his mind that told him he was yet still connected to the cause of his torment.

"Forgive me," Thengel said then, apparently mistaking his silence for a refusal to answer. "I should not have made so personal a query."

"It's quite all right," Bard replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You are right, I was disappointed, and all too recently. I will spare you the details, but suffice it to say, the end was most unexpected on my part."

"I am sorry to have reminded you of it. Such sad news makes me reluctant to share with you my own joy."

Glancing over, Bard said, "If you have a lady friend whom you have a great affection for, please do not hesitate to speak of her on my account. I would be glad to hear of the joy of others rather than dwell on my own sadness."

With these words, Thengel brightened considerably, and launched into a monologue about Morwen, a beautiful young lady of noble blood whom he had met but a month prior. Bard listened with only half an ear; though he nodded or commented where appropriate, his heart really wasn't in the conversation.

Much as he was reluctant to admit it, it still lay in the hands of an _elleth_ who wandered somewhere west of the Misty Mountains.

* * *

That night, as she had every night for the last ten days, Tilda began to cry almost as soon as she lay down to sleep. And, as every night, it was no less than a solid quarter hour before her sobs fell silent.

Bard sat on a log by the fire in front of his tent, seething with anger. It was bad enough that Tauriel had chosen to abandon him without offering any kind of an explanation, thereby breaking the heart he had so foolishly just handed over to her. That he would get over, in time. But the sound of his little girl's tears was like daggers to his soul, and her heartbreak was something he was not sure he had it in him to forgive.

Sigrid stepped out of the tent when Tilda had quieted and plopped down next to him with a ragged sigh. Bard said nothing as she wiped furiously at the tears falling down her own cheeks.

"When is it going to end, Da?" she asked. "When is it going to stop hurting that she's gone?"

With a sigh of his own, his heart breaking just a little more at the sound of her anguish, he reached over to put an arm around her shoulders and drew Sigrid to him.

"I wish I knew, my sweet girl," he said. "And I am sorry I have not offered you or your sister more comfort. It's just so damn difficult to comfort another when I am still hurting myself."

"Like when Mam died?"

"'Tis not the same kind of pain," Bard replied. "The difference is, when your mother died I knew why she was gone. With Tauriel, I just don't understand. Everything was going so well, and then…"

His voice trailed off. He would tell no one what he and Galadriel had discussed, though Bain had asked him about it and Bard had declined to answer his son. He wished the Lady of Lórien had never allowed Tauriel to look into that blasted mirror she'd spoken of—whatever the hell it was—because if she hadn't, his family wouldn't be hurting.

And he wouldn't be missing her so much that at times he could barely breathe.

"I almost wish I hated her, you know," Sigrid was saying. "If I hated her, it wouldn't hurt so much. I wouldn't be missing her to the point that I just want her to come back. But I can't hate her, Da. I love her too much."

Bard tightened his hold when her breath hitched and she sniffled, and he felt the sting of tears he could not blame on the fire behind his own eyes as he said, "I know exactly how you feel."

The two fell silent, and for several minutes Bard listened absently to the sounds of the company as they settled in for the night. He was about to suggest to Sigrid that she take herself to bed when Téomas approached. Sigrid sat up straight and patted at her hair before she smiled up at him.

"I will not keep you as the hour is late, but when I saw you sitting here I thought I would come and bid you good night, my Lady. And you of course, Lord Bard," the boy said, his gaze holding Sigrid's with a smile.

"Good night, Master Téomas," Sigrid replied softly. "I do hope you sleep well."

"Sweetest of dreams to you, Lady Sigrid." With a nod at Bard, who observed the exchange with a light smile, Téomas turned and walked back the way he had come.

Sigrid watched him go with a sigh. A moment later, Bard felt her eyes on him, and so he turned to her to ask, "Something on your mind?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes," she began, and he could tell she was suddenly nervous. "Da… does it bother you at all, me and Téomas?"

He snorted lightly. "Beyond the fact that I've no real desire to admit my little girl is growing up and becoming a woman, why should it?"

"Well, he wishes to court me, though I know he has not formally asked your permission as yet. And I like him so very much, Da, though I admit I'm surprised by my willingness to be courted, what with Tauriel leaving and hurting you like she did…"

When Sigrid cast her eyes down at her hands, which she twisted in her lap, Bard turned and took them in his, waiting until she looked up again to say, "Sigrid, I adore you for caring about my feelings, but what happened between Tauriel and I should in no way affect whatever desire you may have to court or be courted. Do not dare let my pain and discontent lead _your_ heart—if truly you desire to allow this boy's suit of you, then by all means, dearest, embrace your affection for him. I would very much rather you were happy than wallowing in misery at my side."

Though a look of concern still danced in her eyes, he saw also a spark of joy. She was indeed growing up, his little girl, and the fact that she was so concerned for his feelings on her own happiness said so much to him about her character—it said that for all of his mistakes, he'd at least done one thing right.

* * *

 **Tune in again on Monday for the return of Tauriel...**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Thanks be to IsabelleBrown, Eryn, Sparky She-Demon, DaniellaBlue, Violette Penn (welcome back!), and Janine for the reviews. Thanks also to those following along in the background.**

 **Tauriel did not think of Bard and the children when she ran, that's true, but then she wasn't really thinking at all. Her reaction was something of a base instinct—fight or flight—and given how recently she'd lived through the traumatic experience of watching the one she loved die, being forced to relive it again after she'd just stopped seeing it in her nightmares... Yeah, that was bad enough. Then to be forced to witness Bard's death on top of that? Flight from the cause of her pain was the only thing driving her. Logical analysis had not even registered as an option.**

 **Of course, you know what they say about hindsight...**

* * *

Time passed, but Tauriel paid it no heed until well after dark—and even then, she only stopped because Fera needed rest.

Near a week had gone by since her hasty departure from Lothlórien, when she had run away from the love of her life because she could not face his death. And Bard _was_ the love of her life, she knew that now. Not just because they were still bound to each other—for she could sense the connection as a quiet hum in the back of her mind, even though they were far apart—but for the simple fact that she had desired him at all.

Her feelings for Kíli had been strong, of that there was no doubt, or she'd not have grieved him as deeply as she had. But something told her theirs had been the kind of love that flares bright in its infancy only to fade with the passing of time. Tauriel knew now that while they would have loved fiercely and passionately, their love had not been meant to last. Was it possible she was wrong? Certainly... but she didn't think so. At times she wondered what had been the point of their falling for one another if their love was doomed to die, but then she would think of Bard, and she knew the point: One's first love taught a person to love others.

She knew that her love for Bard was different than what she'd felt for the dwarf. It was deeper, and it had begun long before their bonding—perhaps even before she had acknowledged its existence. She knew him so much better than she had known Kíli. She had lived with him and witnessed his conduct as a father, as a leader, as a friend.

She knew him as a lover.

Pain lanced through her chest as she tied Fera to a tree with enough slack in the rope that the horse could graze on nearby foliage. Tauriel dropped to the ground and leaned her back against the tree, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around them, her forehead resting against her knees. Each night since her flight from the Golden Wood, she had sat much like this, ruminating over the choices she had made that had led her to this point. She often wondered what she might do differently, and concluded that she would have conducted herself exactly the same way, save for one thing: she would not have looked into that accursed mirror.

She had known, of course, that Bard would someday perish—that she would outlive him by thousands of years, most likely—she had said as much to Sigrid in Mirkwood. But not knowing how or when he would die had in a way allowed her to ignore his fate—to continue living in a state of ignorant bliss, happy just to love and be loved by him.

Now, all she would be able to think about whenever she looked upon his handsome face was what he had looked like in death. And she had run because she now knew that watching him waste away was something she could not bear to do. Whenever she had that thought, Tauriel would feel more awe for Thranduil than she had ever known—he had somehow managed to survive the death of his chosen mate. Whispers in her homeland had said that though they often appeared distant from one another, Thranduil loved Legolas with a fierceness that was unrivaled. His son was all that remained of his beloved Mírya, the late Queen of the Woodland Realm, and it was said that his child's need of him was all that had kept the king from fading in grief, thus following his love to the Halls of Mandos.

If his only son was the reason Thranduil had rallied his spirit enough to remain a part of this world, why were the children she had seen in the mirror not enough to save _her_ from fading? Was she truly so inferior to the Sindar lord because of her Silvan blood?

Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she thought this, though it was not the first time she had done so. It would likely not be the last. It was a thought that made her almost glad she had left Bard and his children behind, forsaking those she would have carried for him, as they all deserved much better than her. Someone stronger, and able to survive the ills of heartache—even Bard was far greater a person than she, for he had done the same as Mirkwood's king and roused himself from despair for the sake of his children. Why did she have to be so blasted weak in the face of mortality?

Her stomach rumbled then, reminding Tauriel that she had not eaten that day. She did not eat now, as she had no appetite. She hadn't had one since beginning her flight through the mountains, but had resolved to eat at least once a day in order to keep up her strength. But tonight… she just didn't care. She was tired, mentally more than physically, and at last shifted so her head was atop her unopened bedroll, and fell into the open-eyed sleep of her kin on a fervent prayer that she would for once not be reminded of the future she had been forced to bear witness to.

Sometime later she was awoken by Fera, who nudged her shoulder insistently. The elf became aware almost immediately as to why the horse was agitated—a sound that could be none other than the pounding of heavily-booted feet, combined with shrill shrieking and unfettered rampaging through the forest. The woods she had found herself in on the mountain had provided ample cover as she crossed from east to west, and Tauriel had counted it the one small blessing she still held of the Valar that she had for the last five days encountered no orcs or goblins, though she had seen evidence of their passage.

The dawn of the sixth day was to be the one in which her luck ran out, it would seem.

She hurried to her feet, hastily slinging the cord that kept her bedroll together over her head. With one of her knives she slashed at the rope tying the horse to the tree and sprang onto Fera's back. They could not stay here, as they would soon be found and likely killed. If they ran, they at least stood a chance of survival, for her senses told her sunrise was less than an hour away.

" _Noro, mellon nín! Noro!_ " she whispered, adding a kick to the animal's flank to attest her desire for urgency.

Fera needed no such encouragement, as she took off at a gallop the moment Tauriel was on her back. The sound made by the horse's hooves unfortunately meant that if the horde coming toward her hadn't known she was there before, they certainly did now. Black Speech reached her ears, sending a cold shiver down her spine as she hunched over Fera's neck, her hands wound tight into the horse's mane.

The creatures behind her increased their pace. Low-hanging branches whipped at her face and hair, but she did nothing except urge the horse to run faster. A glance spared over her shoulder now showed torches in the distance, and a line of orcs and goblins charging toward her. Tauriel looked forward again quickly, her eyes searching for any way she might get out of their path.

She saw nothing ahead save for the continual downward slope of the mountainside.

Fera cried out a frightened whinny and stumbled, though she kept running. Tauriel looked to see that an arrow fletched with black feathers had been sunk into the horse's rear just inches from her tail—she hadn't thought they were that close, and had time enough only to turn her head out of the way as another arrow caught her eye; it grazed her ear as it flew past. The sting of its bite was nowhere near as painful as that of the third arrow, which pierced her upper right arm just below the shoulder, the shaft lodging halfway through the muscle.

Tears stung her eyes but she did not let them fall. Instead, she fought against the pain and pulled her bow free, turning as she nocked and released an arrow blindly—though Elvish eyesight was superior to that of many races, the pain in her arm was making it difficult to focus, let alone draw the bowstring. She drew another arrow and fired, this time hitting a target, she knew, from the screech that followed the faint thump of its landing.

By the Valar, they were so close! Another orc arrow landed in Fera's flank; the horse screamed again and her pace slowed. "I know it hurts, my brave friend," Tauriel said in Sindarin, "but I beg you, keep going!"

As she released her third arrow, another from the pursuing creatures hit her, catching her just below her leather vest. The pain doubled her over and she nearly fell off; barely was she able to keep her seat as well as her bow in hand. Tauriel turned around—she could not fight anymore, not on the back of the horse. But she could not stop and face them either, for there were too many.

 _Nienna save us_ , she begged silently, even as another arrow slammed into her shoulder. It was quickly followed by another hitting Fera, and that was the last straw for her mare; the horse stumbled, losing her footing and throwing Tauriel over her head. A short scream ripped from her throat as she flew into the air and then slammed to the ground, the impact breaking not only her fall but all three of the arrows that had pierced her. White-hot pain flared as her flesh tore, the intensity increasing when Fera rolled over her right leg, snapping both the lower bones.

Tauriel screamed again and fought to gain control of her pounding heart. She had to get up somehow, to move the rest of the way down the slope, but the pain now verged on blinding—darkness crept along the edges of her vision. Using her bow to support her weight, she forced herself to stand on her good leg. Fera had come to a stop several feet ahead but the horse was still on the ground, struggling to get up. Tauriel could sense that the mare was in agony, as she was, and she made to move toward her, using the bow as a walking stick. She was so focused on her mount she did not see the party riding swiftly toward them from the field below.

She didn't get far. Unable to support herself on both legs, she stumbled on the first step and fell, her momentum causing her to roll down the side of the hill, past her horse, and all the way down to the edge of the plain below. Her head struck the side of a small boulder, and as unconsciousness claimed her, her last thought was of her husband:

 _I'm so sorry, Bard. Forgive me, my love_ …

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Noro_ \- Run


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Tauriel is alive, and we get to see some familiar faces...and one maybe not so familiar.**

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The first thing to tell Tauriel she had survived was the bright sunlight stinging her eyelids. She drew them more tightly closed to shut out the light, but that did nothing to dissuade the shining rays from disturbing her.

A moan escaped her as the second thing to tell her she still lived registered—she ached _everywhere_. She could now feel a dull pounding in her head, and her entire body felt like she had been trampled by the horde of orcs and goblins that had chased her down the mountain.

That she was not alone was the final thing, as a voice all too familiar to her ears spoke her name softly.

"Tauriel?"

Her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself looking upon a face she had not expected to see again, at least not anytime soon.

"I must be dreaming," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For you cannot possibly be here." Wherever 'here' was…

The silver-blond _ellon_ perched on a chair next to her turned up the corners of his mouth in a tentative smile. The brown-haired female that had come to stand beside him said, "I'll go and fetch a healer."

Legolas looked up at her and nodded, then back to Tauriel as the woman left. "If it were a dream, I pray you would think it a good one, _mellon nín_."

Tauriel smiled weakly. "No dream in which you appear could be anything but pleasant, _cund nín_."

Taking a deep breath, she took a moment to study her surroundings. She was in a beautifully appointed room with beige stone walls, tucked into a bed that was easily wide enough to fit three across. On the opposite wall was an unlit fireplace with a magnificent mantle—it had been carved so that it appeared two trees, one on each side, were leaning toward each other, their intertwined branches creating the mantle itself. The leaves of the trees, which climbed the wall above and surrounded a mirror, were painted various shades of green; the trunks were a light brown. The sunlight that had wakened her streamed in through glassless windows that appeared—from what she could see in her prone position—to look out onto lush foliage.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"This place is known to many as the Last Homely House East of the Sea," said a deep-timbered voice, the speaker entering the room slowly. "The name in Sindarin is Imladris, in the Common Tongue it is called Rivendell."

The smile he favored her with was warm and welcoming as he came to a stop at the foot of the bed. "Of course, my family and I simply call it home."

Legolas had stood upon the richly-clad elf's entrance and bowed his head. "My Lord Elrond," he said.

Tauriel's eyes widened and she shifted her arms in order to push herself up off the bed—though she fell back instantly, both arms giving way under her.

"Do not trouble yourself to rise, my dear," said Elrond. "You are certainly still weak after suffering such grievous injuries as you did—not to mention you were quite malnourished when the Rangers found you."

Tauriel could feel Legolas' eyes on her even as he returned to his seat. Ignoring the comment about the state of her health before the attack, she asked, "What of my horse? Were they able to save her as well?"

The subtle shift in Elrond's expression told her before he even said the words. "I'm sorry, Tauriel. You were brought ahead by two of the group while the others dealt with the horde that chased you. By the time they reached her after dispatching the creatures, it was too late for the mare. She was given a dignified burial on the hillside. "

Tears fell silently from the corners of her eyes. She'd not owned Fera long—the horse had been left behind along with several others by Thranduil when he and the Mirkwood soldiers had departed Dale after the battle. The chestnut mare had seemed unsure of herself in the unfamiliar environment, if such could be said of a horse, which is why she had been drawn to her immediately and claimed her for her own—she'd felt the same way at the time. Over the last five months, Fera had become one of her closest companions.

Besides Bard, that is.

Thinking of him now, alarm suddenly raced through her. Had he been aware of her injury? How had he reacted if he had? She could feel that the two of them were still connected through their mating bond, though she could not hear his thoughts or sense his emotions—she just knew he was there.

"How… how long have I been here?" she asked.

"You were unconscious for eight days," Legolas answered. "For the first two or three, we worried you might not make it."

Elrond surprised her by smirking. "He worried," the elf-lord said, jerking a thumb at Legolas. "I had complete faith in my skills and the power of Lady Ranárë."

Tauriel frowned. "Who is that?"

Legolas glanced at Elrond, who said, "Ranárë is a guest here. She is of the Maiar, and was riding with the Rangers who were actually in Hollin to track the orc pack that attacked you. She used her powers to slow the spread of the poison from the three arrows you were struck with—which, given its potency and your condition—was a very great blessing indeed. The place where the Rangers came upon you is a two-day ride from Imladris."

"Had she not slowed the poison, you would have been dead by the time they brought you through the gate," Legolas added with a visible shudder.

She let her gaze roam over him for a moment. Legolas seemed genuinely shaken by the fact that she'd come close to dying. Tauriel considered it a blessing that she could still count the prince as a friend, though if he knew her present circumstances—such as why she'd been travelling alone through the mountains to begin with—he might well amend his regard.

Hopefully she'd never have to tell him.

Turning her eyes to Lord Elrond, she said, "You have my deepest thanks, my Lord, for seeing to my care. I shall have to think of some way to repay your kindness."

Elrond shook his head. "No repayment need be made, child. It is my duty as a healer to mend the ill. Take your rest now and regain your strength. Seeing as you are fully with us once more, I'll have someone bring you something to eat. Do your flesh a great favor and actually eat it—the nourishment will do you well."

"That was…odd," Tauriel murmured after Elrond had departed.

Legolas snorted lightly. "Lord Elrond is no different from my father in that he sometimes likes to speak in riddles," he said, then turned a pointed gaze her way. She felt like squirming under the scrutiny but did not yet feel as though she had the strength.

"What?" she queried after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Dear Valar, was he reading her mating bond? _Please, don't let him ask me about it_ , she begged silently.

If Legolas had noticed she was wed, he thankfully did not mention it, saying only, "Why would you be malnourished?"

She looked away from him. "I'm sure Lord Elrond was exaggerating," she muttered.

"I have never known the Ñoldo to exaggerate the entire time I have known him," the prince countered.

"And how long is that?" she asked.

"Two months, which before you ask is how long I have been in Imladris. And you have not answered my question, Tauriel—don't make me pull rank on you."

Tauriel favored her friend with a raised eyebrow. "You cannot do so here, Legolas—Imladris is not Mirkwood, therefore you cannot claim rank over me either as my prince or my commanding officer. Here we are equals."

"Then I bid you treat me as such and give me an answer," he countered. "Why do you desire to avoid the question? I've never known you to be evasive."

Frustrated with wanting to be honest—he deserved that much for standing up for her in the face of his father's threat to her life, if not for the centuries of friendship and camaraderie—but not sure how to do so without blurting out her entire miserable story, Tauriel groaned and said, "For goodness' sake, Legolas—game was scarce as I traveled through the mountains. Why else would I not have eaten much?"

The look in his eyes was clear indication he did not believe her half-lie, but she was saved from further questioning, at least for the moment, by the entrance of the brunette from before. She'd pulled her hair back sometime during her absence, and Tauriel noted that though she was quite fair, she was no elf. She carried in her hands a silver serving tray, which she set on the bedside table, then lifted the cover off the single bowl in the middle.

"The kitchen has prepared a hearty soup for you, miss," the young woman said. "Lord Elrond bade me remind you to eat all of it."

"Thank you, Gilraen," said Legolas, offering the woman a smile.

Tauriel held back a groan but did not refrain from rolling her eyes. What the hell was the big deal about her not eating? An elf could go for weeks on nothing but water if necessary, and while scarceness of game had not been _her_ reason—she'd seen plenty of small creatures and edible foliage during her trek—it was one that should satisfy anyone who asked.

Anyone, she mused sourly as Gilraen helped her sit up against the headboard, except Legolas. He stared at her with an indecipherable mask as the tray was placed across her lap. Gilraen wished her enjoyment of the repast and left again. Picking up the spoon beside the bowl, the _elleth_ dipped it into the brown broth filled with vegetables and cuts of meat, lifting it to her lips to blow on the hot liquid.

Legolas was still staring. And that was really starting to annoy her. "I do not need you to watch my every move, you know," she said before finally putting the spoonful in her mouth.

Admittedly, the soup tasted delicious—even as she lowered the spoon again, her mouth was watering for more. It was not until she'd taken three that her stonily silent companion spoke again.

"I'll leave you to your meal, Captain," he said abruptly, standing as he did so. Tauriel knew he was angry by the way he used her rank, which he had only ever done when in front of other soldiers or when he was cross. And if that hadn't been enough to tell her of his ire, the stiff way he walked—no, stalked—to the door certainly was.

He paused on the threshold to look over his shoulder at her. "When you feel like being forthcoming with the truth, let me know."

Though the snick of the door shutting was soft, in her mind it was as though he'd slammed it. Tauriel's stomach dropped, and now the very thing he and Elrond wanted her to do so badly she had no desire to comply with—her appetite had left the room with her best friend.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _cund nín_ \- my prince


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: Thanks ever so much to Sparky She-Demon, Violette Penn, Eryn, and DaniellaBlue for the reviews of chapter 38. Thanks also to everyone who is following from the shadows.**

 **Violette - Yes, Tauriel is being rather a dork about Legolas. The nobility of our favorite Elven prince will be seen in a later chapter.**

 **Glad everyone liked the inclusion of Elrond and Gilraen last chapter. Speaking of the latter, her family as described in this chapter is borrowed with permission from DaniellaBlue, who created an extended family for Aragorn's mother for a future story... which will be a part of the** ** _Forgotten Tales of Middle-earth_** **series!**

* * *

In Tauriel's first week after waking in Imladris, she was introduced to a slew of interesting people.

For instance, neither of her primary caretakers were elves—both women were Dúnedain. Gilraen, whom she'd met the day she'd woken, was actually the second of five daughters. Her father Dírhael and older sister Bronwë were both Rangers of the North and her mother Ivorwen had chosen to live in a village some distance west of Rivendell, rather than at the Elven refuge with her family. With her mother gone and her father and sister often out in the wilds, the care and upbringing of the younger three children had fallen on poor Gilraen's shoulders. One was bookish and quiet, for the most part, preferring to keep her nose in some old tome or other, while the two youngest seemed to desire nothing more than to chase after Elvish men.

Or any man, for that matter. Tauriel felt sorry for Gilraen, who was often frustrated with having to try and keep her teenaged sisters under control—and all that on top of being the widowed mother of a young boy who counted only eleven springs. Estel he'd been named, the Sindarin word for "hope". It was an odd choice to name a male child thusly, but there was surely some secret meaning behind it Tauriel was not privy to. She often thought the same of her own name—it meant "daughter of the forest", but she knew that her parents had not been born in the Woodland Realm. She had, though, so perhaps it was merely a nod to her birthplace.

The other young woman who often tended her by helping her dress or bringing her food was Laivindil. She had actually been raised by elves from Lothlórien—a group of marchwardens had teamed with Rangers many years back in learning of the northern wilds in Arnor, and had come upon a devastated village. Orcs were the culprits, as too often was the case in such stories. They'd thought to find no survivors but there had been one: Laivindil, whom they had discovered partially pinned beneath the body of a woman believed to be her mother. Two of the group, Tirinwë and Ceridwen—rather than taking the infant girl believed to be a year in age to a Dúnedain village—chose to return with her to Lothlórien and raise her themselves. As she'd been too young at the time to speak her given name, the only one she remembered had been gifted to her by the couple she called Mother and Father.

Laivindil had thus spent 23 of her nearly 25 autumns in the Golden Wood, and had spent the last year in Imladris learning the healing arts under the tutelage of Elrond. Having grown up surrounded by elves, she felt a special kinship with little Estel, who'd been raised in Elrond's house since he was two, when his mother's family had sought refuge there after the boy's father had been killed…by orcs, of course.

So many lives had fallen to those foul beasts, Tauriel was beginning to hate them with a ferocity that matched that of Elrond's sons, or so she had heard tell of. She had yet to meet the twins, as they and Legolas had left the day after she woke with a team of Rangers to guard a caravan taking supplies to one of the eastern Dúnedain villages. It had stung to hear that Legolas was gone so soon after their reunion, but she supposed she could not truly blame him for wanting to go. She hadn't exactly been honest, and that had upset the prince. She hoped to make amends with him before long, though unless she confessed everything, she didn't know how she was going to accomplish the task.

Yet another person Tauriel had met was the enigmatic Ranárë, who she recalled had helped save her life. The Istari was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and had the pointed ears of the Elves—had Lord Elrond not already said she was of the Maiar, Tauriel would have assumed the beautiful, earthy face and lithe body belonged to one of her kin. When she spoke her voice was strong but soft, and even when speaking of insignificant matters, held an underlying tone of authority and power.

Ranárë disliked being addressed as "my Lady", Tauriel learned quickly, though that did not stop Elrond, Gilraen, or even Laivindil from doing so. It was clear she was held in very high esteem by all who knew her, and the manner of address was one of respect—why she wished it not to be used confused the elf she had saved. Something else that confused her was the way Ranárë often looked at her when she thought no one was watching. Her eyes always seemed to hold an odd mixture of pity and sadness—and understanding, of all things—as if she could relate to some unknown facet Tauriel herself was unaware of.

She liked her well enough, and had been gracious and profuse with her thanks when she'd expressed her gratitude for her part in rescuing her—but Tauriel also found those stares just this side of disturbing. She was always polite when they encountered one another, but she refrained from intentionally seeking out the woman's company. With the only person she actually knew gone and her mobility limited by the broken leg she'd suffered, she needed something—anything—to keep her from dwelling on the buzz her mating bond constantly emitted. It was always there, the reminder that she had given herself over completely to another.

Well, perhaps not completely. Their souls were bound and she had given to him of her body and her heart—but she had not surrendered her fear. She knew she should have spoken with Bard, confessed everything she saw in the mirror and thrown herself at his mercy, or whatever emotion he'd have wished to handle the matter with. But it was too late for that now. She'd thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to her and there was no getting it back.

However, due to the fact that she could still sense the connection they shared, it became a daily mission to keep herself occupied so that she would not think about how depressed being away from Bard made her, how much she hated herself for ruining what they'd barely begun together. Any distraction from an emotional pain that bordered on crippling was welcome, even if it came in the form of Neniel and Heledhwen, Gilraen's man-crazy younger sisters, or even her son. Estel was a joy to interact with, being bright beyond his years and insatiably curious, though she'd only met with him a handful of times. When Tauriel desired to seek out companionship, she often sought Gilraen herself or Laivindil, and even though both had an annoying habit of pushing food into her hands (seriously, what was that all about?), she rather enjoyed their company.

Gilraen's older sister Bronwë, who'd elected not to go on the escort run with the Rangers in order to give Gilraen a break in wrangling their younger siblings, was the other half of the pair that had spirited her away from the orcs and goblins. Not normally a caregiver, the Dúnadan had confessed, she'd nonetheless volunteered to help Tauriel regain her physical strength—this had included holding her up as she first took short walks, and then longer ones as the days went by. The broken bones of her lower right leg had been mended upon her arrival by Lord Elrond's healing magic, but the limb was still weak. So were both of her arms. Besides the daily walks, the younger woman had helped her work on her upper body by having her lift small weighted objects, the size of the objects increasing each day as did the distance they walked to and from her room. Bronwë was another whose companionship she enjoyed, and unlike her sister or the healer-in-training, she didn't constantly harangue her to eat.

Tauriel's weapons had been rescued along with her and sat in a corner of her room. Bronwë had pointed them out to her on the first afternoon and declared she longed for the day Tauriel could wield a bow once more, that they might have a shooting contest. The elf had grinned and agreed the day could not come soon enough.

When she found herself alone one afternoon at the end of the second week of consciousness, a book she'd borrowed from Elrond's library not holding her interest, Tauriel decided to try going for a walk on her own. She stood with ease from the armchair by one window and laid the book on the bedside table. Though she was a little dizzy on standing, that soon passed, and she made her way slowly out of the room and into the corridor. It felt refreshing not to require help, and so she steadily increased the pace of her stride.

Wandering around as she'd not been able to do before, she found herself marveling at the beautiful architecture of the House of Healing. Ornate pillars were carved directly from stone and more often than not were made to look like trees—it made her a little wistful for her woodland home every time she looked at one. There were also extraordinary paintings and intricately woven tapestries, and the motif continued in the next building, which she knew was the home of Elrond and his family.

As she passed by the library doors, which were a few inches ajar, Tauriel heard voices within—Elrond and Ranárë. Hurrying past lest they think her eavesdropping, she still caught a brief exchange of words that left her furrowing her brow.

"…needs to be told, Elrond," Ranárë said.

"She is not ready to hear it, surely you can see that," Elrond protested. "Besides, my Lady, I have not heard back from…"

Curiosity bloomed as she walked away. Tauriel couldn't help wondering who the two were talking about and what it was the person was allegedly not ready to hear. She then dismissed the matter with a shake of her head, as it was none of her concern.

As she wandered into the garden a wave of dizziness overcame her and she found it necessary to hold onto a pillar for support. Light-headedness and nausea were two things that she'd been fighting off and on since she'd woken, and at first she'd attributed it to the malnutrition that was a result of her eating only once a day for nearly a week, and then being fed only broth and water for another while she was unconscious. Her nurses and even Elrond had assured her they would pass so long as she continued to eat well and regain her strength, but so far she had seen no sign of either going away. She had random episodes daily, some of which had led to her retching in the private wet room in her chambers.

When she felt steady again, she continued along the path. She was nearly to the exit on the other end of the stunning greenery consisting of flowers and shaped topiary when dizziness and nausea both slammed through her. Tauriel fell to her knees, her stomach heaving, and was at first unaware of the sound of rapidly approaching feet.

"My goodness—are you well, my Lady?" said a male voice as a hand took a firm but gentle grip of her arm.

Looking up slowly, her vision swimming, Tauriel saw two identical faces, the features chiseled and handsome and inset with cobalt blue eyes, and crowned they were with wavy dark hair. Adding to her confusion was the return of a sense of familiarity, as if she ought know who was before her.

"Oh Valar, I know something's wrong with me now," she muttered. "There's two of you when there should only be one."

The faces both grinned. "Actually, there really are two of us," said the one on the left. "I'm Elladan and this is Elrohir, my eternal pain in the arse."

"Who's being an arse right now?" asked the one identified as Elrohir. "Clearly the _elleth_ is unwell, so that was a foolish question. And calling me out like that to someone we've only just met is plain rude."

Brushing Elladan aside, he knelt in front of Tauriel, his hands on her shoulders. "Do you think you can stand? We'll help you get to the House of Healing—or at least I will, I have no idea what this one is going to do next."

Not trusting herself to nod, she said softly, "I would like to stand, but I do not know that I can without getting sick."

Elrohir shifted his position, setting his arms as though to lift her. "If I have your permission, madam, I will carry you."

"Please move slowly, I beg you."

Within moments, the tall, strong Son of Elrond had picked her up from the ground. He stayed stationary for a moment as she'd moaned with the swimming of her head. Her stomach heaved again but she managed to keep her lunch down.

"Elbereth, she's gone pale. Take her to the House of Healing, brother—I'll go and get _Adar_ ," said Elladan, all joviality gone from his voice.

Elrohir nodded and hurried Tauriel back to the House of Healing as quick as he could without making her feel worse. Under her direction, he brought her back to her room, at which they arrived at the same time as Elrond, Elladan, and Laivindil. Her Elven courier sat her gently on the bed and then stepped out of the way to let his father and the apprentice healer work.

"What's wrong with me, my Lord?" Tauriel asked as he looked into her eyes and took her pulse. Laivindil was preparing what she suspected was some kind of herbal tea in a steaming pot she'd brought with her. "I've been doing so well, but the dizziness and nausea continue to plague me."

Elrond sighed and pulled a chair close to the bed. His expression as he looked into her eyes was serious, as was his tone when he spoke.

"Tell me, Tauriel… when did you last lay with your husband?"


	40. Chapter 40

**Thanks once more to all my reviewers - Theresa, Eryn, DaniellaBlue, Sparky She-Demon - y'all are fabulous. And correct. ;)**

 **Thanks to all of you out there (you know who you are) who are following along without saying a word. It's okay - I'm just glad you're reading the story!**

* * *

A heavy dose of shame and embarrassment washed over Tauriel as she accepted a mug of the tea from Laivindil.

"The herbs will help with both the dizziness and the nausea," the Dúnadan said softly.

With only a slight nod, Tauriel lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. "You noticed the bond, I see," she said.

One of the twins snorted, and the other said, "One of our kin could hardly _not_ notice."

After taking another swallow of the tea, she noted she indeed felt better. Her gaze settled on Elrond briefly before falling to the cup in her hands. "Why does it matter when last I lay with him?" _The only time_ , she amended silently.

"My Lady," said Laivindil, her tone gentle yet disbelieving, "surely you must know why? Elven women are supposed to know almost from the moment it begins."

"Think about it," added a twin, who stood in the doorway with his mirror image. "Besides sharing pleasures of the flesh, what else happens when husbands and wives lay together?"

Tauriel's eyes flew open as his words sank in, and she looked aghast at all four faces as the realization hit her.

" _Im na hên_ ," she muttered, and covered her now-flaming face with one hand. "Are you certain, my Lord?"

"All the signs are there, my dear," Elrond replied softly. "Also, Lady Ranárë detected the life growing inside of you ere the two of you reached the borders of Imladris."

"Speaking of, do you know where we might find Ranárë, _Ada_?" asked the twin on the left.

His father glanced over at him. "When last I saw her, she was in the library."

Elladan and Elrohir (Tauriel had no idea which one was which) nodded in unison and quickly departed. Elrond turned back to his patient with an expectant expression.

She sighed as she dropped her hand back to her lap. "It was one moon ago, or thereabout."

Laivindil smiled. "Then you begat the child May 1st, most likely."

Tauriel nodded. "That would be accurate—though given I had not intended this to happen, I am not certain how it did."

"Even Elven women have been known to conceive without trying," Laivindil pointed out kindly. "Though it is rare."

"I take it that this news is not entirely welcome," Elrond said slowly.

She gave a mirthless chuckle. "It would be welcomed with greatest joy were my circumstances not what they are."

"At risk of upsetting you further, am I correct in my assumption that your mate has passed to the Halls of Mandos?"

Tilting her head back, she looked up at the ceiling as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. "No, he lives. Though even were he dead, his spirit would not reside there. Men are not so privileged as the mighty Elves to be allowed to remain in the Halls of Waiting."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the apprentice healer blanch at her derisive tone when she spoke of her people. Elrond sighed, his lips pursed and his expression thoughtful.

They were both of them surprised when Laivindil asked, "Do you regret binding yourself to a mortal?"

She immediately drew a hand to her lips in astonishment of her own words. The younger woman colored furiously as she dropped her chin to her chest, her long, curly blonde mane obscuring her face.

"Forgive me, my Lady, for asking so impertinent a question."

Tauriel scoffed. "Do not fret over it, Laivindil. I have asked myself that very same thing," she told her.

And she had, many times, over those six days she'd spent trekking through the Misty Mountains. Though she'd often thought the only thing she would change was looking into Galadriel's mirror, if she were truly honest with herself, she _did_ wish that she'd taken the time to think it through, to consider what watching Bard slowly wither with the passing of time—what watching him die before her very eyes—would do to her. But that was the very crux of the problem: she hadn't been thinking. She'd only been feeling, and acting on the desires of her body and of her heart.

After she'd woken from her brief coma, she'd thought about it again, and had come to the conclusion that in spite of her thoughtlessness, she'd rather have loved Bard briefly than not to have loved him at all.

"Where is your husband now?" her host asked then.

Tauriel sighed, then took a sip of the tea and thought about it before answering. "Crossing the Brown Lands, I would imagine."

"And does he know he is bound to you?"

She frowned then, but nodded. "Yes, he knows."

Looking over again at last, she added, "You have my thanks for coming so quickly after my dizzy spell. At least now I know the cause of it, and why certain people have been shoving food into my hands every chance they get. And though I know you have many more questions, I am of no mind to answer a single one of them."

A new freshet of tears sprung up behind her eyes and she bit her lip to stay them as she once more turned her gaze away. "I beg of you both, please take your leave."

Elrond nodded in silence and stood. He gestured for Laivindil to follow, and after quickly explaining that there was more tea in the pot should she need it, the two left her alone.

Tauriel set the mug in her hands on the bedside table, then dropped her head into them and cried.

* * *

For the first week after waking up, Tauriel had taken her meals in her room, until she had been deemed strong enough to walk—with assistance—to the main dining hall. The second week, she had been most pleased to get out of the confines of her chambers and visit with others over meals, getting to know her gracious host and his guests and the other elves that resided there. Elrond's chief administrator, Lindir, reminded her of Galion, who served Thranduil in the same capacity. Both were somewhat uptight individuals, though of the two, Lindir seemed much more personable. She had had a number of pleasant conversations with the _ellon_.

Tonight, however, she had no desire to be around people. For that matter, she had little desire to be around herself, but her own mind was something she could not escape. Her thoughts were deeply troubled, wondering how in Arda she was going to be a mother when she could barely care for herself. Tauriel wondered if Legolas knew, as so many others had known before she did. As one of the twins had said, her matrimonial bond would have been hard for him to miss—had Ranárë or Elrond or one of her caretakers mentioned she was also with child?

She wondered what Bard would think if he knew.

The three children he already had were near grown. It was entirely possible that he'd long lost any desire he may have had for more offspring, and had simply desired a loving companion for the rest of his days. Would he welcome the surprise of their child with trepidation or joy?

Shaking her head, she realized it was pointless to wonder how he would react. A desire to tell him had stirred in her heart but she had quelled it with the reminder that she had been away from him nearly a month. Had she returned in the first day or two, she might have stood a chance of being forgiven. Bard might have raged at her to excise his pain, but once he had calmed and allowed her to explain, he would have accepted her back into his home and his heart, and he would have helped her work through the fear that even now sat upon her own heart like a festering wound.

But now there was no chance of that. She had been gone too long, and it was punishment enough that he likely already resented the bond reminding him they were still connected.

Tauriel was startled by the sound of a knock on the door. Before she could bid the visitor to enter or go away, it was pushed open and she was surprised to see Ranárë carrying a tray in. She set it on the bedside table, then looked down at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I understand Elrond spoke to you today," she said.

"I know I am pregnant, yes," Tauriel replied, her hands absently falling to her lower abdomen.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted an expression that was almost wistful crossing Ranárë's features. "A new life is blessed news, _Aranel_. It means there is hope yet for those of us with a past of which we cannot say we are entirely proud."

Confusion furrowed her brow as Tauriel looked up at the other woman—what the devil was she talking about? And why had she called her "Princess", of all things?

"Why did you call me that?" she asked, voicing the question aloud.

Ranárë frowned. "I thought…? You mean Elrond didn't tell you?"

One eyebrow winged up. "Beyond the news that I'm with child? Nothing—what else could there possibly be to say?"

The Maia growled and fisted her hands on her hips, muttering, "That stubborn, pig-headed Ñoldo—no offense."

Without giving her a chance to say none was taken, as she was Silvan, Ranárë spun on her heel and strode out, leaving a confused Tauriel staring after her.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Im na hên_ \- I [am] with child _._ (I could not find a Sindarin translation for "am" so had to make do with what I _could_ find.)

 **Quenya:**

 _Aranel_ \- Princess

* * *

 **This is the last Taury chapter until Nov. 30. On Monday we return to Bard and the Company.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Thanks very much to all my reviewers - DaniellaBlue, Sparky She-Demon, Guest, ErnestShippinglane89, Violette Penn, Eryn and Janine. More thanks of course go out to the folks who read and enjoy the story in silence.**

 **Violette - Ranárë is a character of my own creation, but she is based on some "pre-canon" notes of the Professor's. Basically, I took an idea of his that did not make it into the final legendarium and made it part of her background. She will be one of the main characters in a future story which sadly does not yet have a title. In truth, I had not intended for her to appear in TJoH, but the timeline for her story coincided with Tauriel's time in Rivendell, so there's going to be some crossover there. When I get around to writing** **Ranárë's story, readers will actually get to see Tauriel's rescue in Hollin.**

 **Everyone, do not worry! Tauriel will definitely return to Bard, but it's going to be a while before that happens.**

 **Oh, and apologies for getting this chapter to you later than intended.**

* * *

Travel to Minas Tirith took a little over four days.

The company arrived there in the early evening of the fourth day of travel. Prince Thengel was greeted warmly by the guards at the gate, telling Bard that they knew him well. And though he'd fully expected the Rohirrim nobleman to take his leave there on the lowest of the city's seven levels, he was surprised when Thengel personally showed him which were the best inns for his people to take rooms in.

"I've rooms up in the Citadel myself," he said as he made to leave Bard at his family's rooms, "in the King's House. The Stewards of Gondor have long taken residence there. Tomorrow after breakfast I shall come down and fetch you, Bard, that you might make treat with Lord Turgon and further your people's prosperity."

Bard smiled and bowed his head. "My deepest thanks for such a generous offer as to facilitate the meeting, Your Highness."

"Think nothing of it, my friend. A good night to you and yours." With that, Thengel departed, his bodyguards trailing behind him.

* * *

The next day, while their father, Gudmund, Peri and Magnus met with the Steward, Sigrid hashed out a plan with Bain to take Tilda shopping. She could buy whatever she liked no matter the expense—within reason, of course—so long as it brought a smile to her face. Their father they'd dealt with being depressed before, but somehow their sister's sadness was a whole other entity.

And they were getting desperate. It had been two weeks since Tauriel left, and Tilda hadn't smiled once in all that time.

The three dwarves in the company traveled through the markets with Bard's children as unofficial bodyguards, though they knew the girls carried daggers and Bain wore his sword at his side. Having heard from Thengel that Dwarves from a settlement in the White Mountains often frequented the city, Balin, Bofur, and Ori were eager to see if they'd meet any. Balin believed that some of his kin from Erebor had fled to the southern range and taken up residence there after Smaug had first taken the mountain.

It was Tilda who first took notice of a booth selling belt buckles and other items of Dwarven design. She wandered up to it and picked up a brass buckle, and at long last her brother and sister caught a faint smile on her face. Turning, she held out the buckle to Bofur.

"Do you like this, Master Bofur?" she asked.

"Aye, 'tis a nice one indeed, young lass," he replied.

"Good. Then I shall buy it for you."

Bofur's eyes widened. "Are you sure you want to spend your coin on me, lassie? Do you not want to spend it on a new doll or a dress or somethin'?"

Tilda shrugged. "I can get those too, if I want. I just thought I would get something for somebody else first. Your folk have been so good to us, and Da's always talking about repaying kindness."

Her eyes dropped to the ground and her shoulders slumped. "But I guess if it's not good enough…"

Bofur looked up to see pleading expressions on the faces of Bain and Sigrid, and so he crooked a finger under the little girl's chin and showed her one of his brightest smiles. "It's better than good enough, Miss Tilda. It's perfect. I've been needing me a new belt buckle, come to think of it."

He held the buckle about his waist as he turned to his kinsmen. "What do you think, Balin? Ori?"

The two did not answer, as at that moment a number of people poured out of the shop next door—including four dwarves. They were all of them stunned when the tall female mortal, clad in a lovely pale blue gown, looked down at one of the dwarves and said, "I tell you, Rejna, that dress was perfect for you! You should have bought it!"

The party of six looked at one another—Bard's children were especially in awe. Were they really this close to a dwarf woman, for the first time ever?

One of the four armored dwarves, of lighter build than the other three, replied in a distinctly feminine voice.

"Oi, Morwen—I told you I'm not one for girly raiments like yourself."

Huge smiles were shared between the three dwarves and the children. The former stepped forward eagerly—Bofur absently carrying the belt buckle with him.

"Begging your pardon," Balin said politely, "but would you happen to be from Ered Nimrais?"

The four dwarves all turned toward them; their companion likewise did the same. The dwarf of lighter build pushed to the front, and indeed it was a dwarrowlass—dark brown of hair and green of eyes she was, her face oddly—to the three dwarves, at least—free of a beard. In her manner they could clearly detect an air of authority, and by the look of her armor she was a commanding soldier of some rank.

"Who are you?" she asked bluntly. "I've not seen your like around these parts before."

"I am Balin, son of Fundin, at your service," the old dwarf said. "With me are—"

His words were cut off when the four dwarves before them laughed. "Are they still saying that up north?" the lass asked him.

Balin frowned. "Well…yes. Why wouldn't we? 'Tis a custom to greet another in such a manner."

The lass grinned. "Maybe where you're from, Master Balin, but around these parts we say it a little differently."

She bowed slightly at the waist as she said, "I am Rejna, daughter of Helga, here to serve you."

One of her fellow soldiers stepped up to her and spoke into her ear as she straightened. Rejna shook her head at him, a hard look in her eyes for a moment, before she turned back with a smile.

"You're very pretty for a dwarf," Tilda broke in.

Sigrid put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Forgive my sister, Mistress Rejna. She often does not know when _not_ to be blunt."

Rejna grinned. "Bluntness is favored among dwarves, young lady. Your sister would make a very fine wife for one of my kin if she keeps that trait," she replied. "Besides, I take no offense at the observation. Many have said it before her, no doubt others will in days to come."

Tilda moved closer and stared for a moment. "I thought dwarf ladies had beards too? That's what Master Glóin said once."

"Many a dwarrowdam does sport a beard, that's true, young miss. But we're oft mistaken for men when we do, and while I might not wear a dress as often as my friend here would like, I do like to be known as a woman. I keep no beard so I look like one to all whom I meet."

"Wouldn't your kin know the difference between you and a man?" Bain asked.

Laughter erupted from Rejna's companions as well as Balin, Bofur, and Ori. Balin turned to him with a rosy-cheeked smile as he said, "Dwarf males would know the difference, lad, but others are not always so keen to notice. When our women travel, they often dress the same as men so as to blend in with them."

"Why is that?"

"Because there are so few of us," Rejna replied. "Dwarf women, I mean. Only about a third of all Dwarves are female, which is one reason why women are so cherished among our people. Dressing as a man when traveling makes a dwarrowdam stand out less—especially if she has a beard. She is then less of a target."

She tilted her head and studied them then, before saying, "To answer your question, Master Balin, we live in the White Mountains, yes, but our lands are not referred to by that name or Ered Nimrais. We are soldiers of the Kingdom of Dwarrowvale. Now, where might you be from that your greeting is old-fashioned and you travel with children of Men?"

Balin looked to his left and right, then back to Rejna. "I was born in the Kingdom of Erebor, and these two here—Bofur and Ori—" He gestured to each as he said their names. "—in the Blue Mountains, where I lived for a time after the dragon Smaug came and took my home away. Last year we went on a quest with some of our kinsmen to retake the Lonely Mountain, and succeeded."

"Smaug is dead, is he?" said the soldier who'd whispered in Rejna's ear; he removed his helmet and stepped forward again. "Erebor is truly retaken?"

Balin nodded. "It is indeed, lad."

The soldier grinned. "My father will be so overjoyed to hear of this! He's from Erebor, good sir—an honest-to-goodness Son of Durin, he is!"

The elder dwarf's face lit up. "Well bless my beard, boy! Pray tell, who are you? What be your father's name?"

"I am Árni, son of Arnór, son of Björn, here to serve you, Master Balin," the soldier said with a bow.

"I knew your father well!" said Balin with a wide smile. "It brings joy to my heart to know he survived the exodus, and lives still. I would be most pleased to pay a visit to him in your halls if we would be welcome, but I do not know how long our company will be in the city."

"I am Bain, son of Bard, who is Lord in Dale," spoke up Bain. "These are my sisters, Sigrid and Tilda. These three dwarves travel with our company in good faith as our neighbors and friends. My father leads us on a pilgrimage round the lands, that we may secure relations of alliance and trade for Dale."

"Och, you'll have need of it, if my father's stories are true," said Árni. "As I heard tell it, Dale was destroyed thoroughly when that blasted dragon decided to take the mountain."

Sigrid nodded. "Indeed, Master Árni, the city was a ruin when our people fled there after Smaug was woken and burned us out of Lake-town. Much of it is in need of repair still, but it's our home now."

"And we'll make it a right fine city again, you'll see!" added Tilda.

Árni smiled at her. "Though I may never set eyes on it myself, little one, I've no doubt you will."

"If your father is a good and just man, Lord Turgon will aid him well," said Rejna. "For Turgon is a fair leader to the people of Gondor and an ally to the King of Dwarrowvale. He, too, would likely treat with your father had he any desire to meet with him."

"I could make mention of it to my father, my Lady," said Bain. "But as Master Balin said, we do not know how long he plans to stay. Our intention is to return north by midsummer, so we might only be here another day before moving on."

"And our capital is easily two days' ride from Minas Tirith," she replied. "Pity—I think my father would like to have known you, Master Balin. He'd like to have heard your great story of retaking the mountain. As it is, my soldiers and I are to begin the journey home today, now that our business in the city is finished."

"Not until you take lunch with me, whence I shall convince you to buy that gown for my birthday party!" declared Morwen. "I would have every lady there look splendorous."

"I fear if Mistress Rejna wore a gown, she might come close to outshining you, madam," said Ori shyly, speaking up for the first time.

"Why thank you, Master Ori," said Rejna, causing the young dwarf to blush furiously. "But on my honor, I would never allow such a thing to happen. The birthday girl should always be the center of attention."

Morwen huffed. "Then I shall just have to buy the dress for you," she said, and turned back into the store.

"Oh no you don't!" cried Rejna, hurriedly following the taller woman.

"Forgive our princess her hasty retreat," said Árni. "She prefers to be a soldier, believing it her duty to protect our people. Excuse us."

With that, he and the other dwarves headed back inside after the two women. Balin, Ori, and Bofur looked at each other with stunned expressions. The children, when they turned back to them, wore similar looks of disbelief.

As Tilda turned back to the booth to pay for Bofur's belt buckle, Balin looked to the other two dwarves and said with a note of sadness in his tone, "Lads, if ever there was a One for Thorin, that would be her—I know it in my bones. Such a great pity he did not live to see her lovely face."


	42. Chapter 42

"Oh Da, you won't believe who we met today!"

Bard's brow furrowed as he entered the suite of rooms he had let for his family, surprise surely etched in his features as he took in Tilda's excitement.

"Then pray tell me, my dearest, and do not keep me in suspense for long," he told her with a smile.

"A dwarf princess!" Tilda exclaimed, bouncing excitedly. "There's dwarves that live here in Gondor, in the White Mountains in a kingdom called Dwarrowvale, and they have a real life princess!"

Her enthusiasm was infections and his smile spread, his gaze encompassing her brother and sister as well. "Is that so?"

Bain nodded. "Indeed, Da. We went to the market this morning to have a look around, and there we met some dwarves who live in the mountains here. One was a lass, though she was dressed in armor as were the other three. Balin spoke with them about how Erebor had been retaken, and one of the males' father is apparently was someone he knew back before the dragon. The lady said that she believed Lord Turgon would do well by you, and that the king in Dwarrowvale would also if you were of a mind to meet with him, before she ran after a daughter of Men. Some silly business about not wanting to wear a dress for a party."

He rolled his eyes as he spoke the last and Bard chuckled. "But how do you know the dwarrowlass is a princess?" he asked.

"The dwarf whose father Master Balin knows told us after she'd gone," Sigrid explained.

"Well then, 'tis luck that led you there to such an opportunity. It may be another year or more yet before any dwarrowdams come to Erebor," Bard said then. "Yours was good fortune indeed."

He then allowed the girls to share with him stories of all they had seen and done, to show him the items they had purchased. The greatest of joys, however, came from seeing his youngest full of energy and smiles, as she had not been for many days. When they'd had their fun and returned to setting the table for dinner, Bain came to sit by his side.

"How fared you with Lord Turgon, Da?" he asked. "Is he as good a man as Thengel and Rejna claimed of him?"

Bard nodded. "Indeed he was, much to my delight—his son Ecthelion is a wise man also. Though many miles lay between our lands, I am confident in believing we may count on them to aid us, should such a need arise. Tomorrow I am to see to a large quantity of supplies being prepared for travel with us, and his lordship has said he will arrange meetings with folk whom he thinks would be of a mind to join us in Dale."

"It pleases me that another leg of our journey has met with success," Bain observed. "Would you meet with the dwarves in Dwarrowvale, if we had the time?"

"I would indeed. If the constraint of time were not upon us, I would be glad to see this dwarf kingdom and meet with their king."

The two looked over at Sigrid and Tilda, the latter of whom had forsaken her sister to play with two new dolls she had bought—one of them a dwarf.

"Rejna said something about Tilda that might amuse you," said Bain.

Bard looked at him. "And what is that?"

His son glanced sideways at him with a lopsided grin. "That she'd make a good wife for a dwarf, seeing as how she's blunt and that's a trait favored by their kind."

His father snorted. "That she is, our Tilda. Never has she been afraid to speak her mind."

* * *

Minas Tirith was a magnificent city, being carved directly out of the mountain. Bard made sure the children got to see all seven levels, as well as the other members of the company. But after two days there, it was time to move on, and they reluctantly bid the White City goodbye to cross the Pelennor Fields into Osgiliath. The latter city had been recaptured from orcs the year before after a long campaign, and the former capital of Gondor was now considered a military outpost—everyone there was armored, save for a small number of women. Rather than having to take boats across the river, a great bridge had been constructed across its width (or reconstructed, as Bard learned from one of the locals) and the company crossed there.

They kept to the Anduin as they started north, their number now at sixty. A total of fifteen people had joined them from Minas Tirith, including a family of four. Turgon and Thengel had both told Bard more would likely come over the next few years as word of the restoration of Dale was spread through Gondor. The Steward also spoke to Balin saying that he was certain dwarves would go as well, as he'd heard some of Dwarrowvale's residents were once refugees from the north.

On the second day of their march out of Gondor, they reached Cair Andros. It was an island much like Carrock to the north, though it was far larger and boasted enough size to hold a military garrison. Here, Bard noted, was another place by which the Anduin could be crossed, should the garrison continue to be held by Gondor's soldiers. He would have to keep that in mind for future travels.

From the bank beside the garrison, water skins, canteens, and several large barrels—each wagon contained at least three, though Halia's fit fifteen alone—were filled to capacity to begin the trek across the Brown Lands. It would be weeks, possibly a month or more, before they reached Dorwinion, where they would come again to the southernmost reaches of the River Running, where it poured into the Sea of Rhûn. By all accounts the region between the Anduin and Dorwinion was naught but a barren wasteland, filled either with poisoned marshes littered with the dead from battles past, flat, treeless plains, or hills of dry, lifeless earth. There were whispers, of course, of wildmen living in those parts, though how they survived there was a mystery.

Still, Bard took all warnings to heart and made sure every strong lad of fifteen or more, and all the men and some of the women, carried a good sword and were well-versed in how to use it. His marital bond seemed to buzz a fair bit stronger when in the evenings those who were not proficient swordsmen were taught by those of his people who were…using the techniques that his absent bride had taught to them.

His thoughts of Tauriel, as had become the norm over the weeks since her departure, seemed always to be a mix of anger and longing. He thought of her often, though he wished he did not. He silently cursed her for abandoning him even though there were times when all he wanted was to see her again. And though he pretended all was well and he was coping fine to the others, especially for the sake of his children, inside he was miserable. It was a trying thing to still be so in love with someone who had wounded him so deeply. Bard managed his days by keeping occupied with making sure the company moved at a steady pace, by making sure they were safe. At night it was much more difficult to keep his mind from wondering about her… where she was… if she was safe…

…if she ever thought of him.

With summer soon to be in full swing, the days were getting warmer. This meant water was being consumed in greater quantities than in the previous weeks of the journey. Bard and his advisors knew that everyone wished desperately for a bath, but no water could be spared for the luxury, and all were cautioned to drink only as much as needed, for a source of fresh water was not to be found for miles.

When they hit the two week mark, Bard called for another day of rest—even his mind was going numb with having nothing to look at all day but scorched earth. The people were glad for the chance to rest their tired minds and bodies after days of seemingly endless travel.

They were all of them very much surprised when, as the hot sun was setting on the horizon, a number of people were sighted coming toward them from the east. As none recognized their manner of dress, Bard cautioned everyone to be on their guard. He waited until the group of about ten men drew nearer before he called for Gudmund, Magnus, and Peri to join him in walking out to meet them. Each man was dressed in red and black, with a scarf around their head, kohl around their eyes, and a scimitar at their waist.

"Hail, friends," Bard called out in greeting as they approached the men. He hoped like hell these people spoke Westron.

The man in front raised his arm across his chest in much the same manner as the Elves did, though his hand was open flat instead of closed. He then extended the arm forward before it fell to his side.

"Greetings," he replied. "I am Qadir, son of Razziq. Who are you that comes so far into the desert with so many?"

His common speech was thickly accented, but at least they would be able to understand one another. Resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow, Bard introduced himself, then Gudmund, Magnus, and Peri; he gave only their familial relations, as was custom, saying nothing of the purpose of their journey. His senses told him he should be cautious. "We are on pilgrimage from Gondor to Dorwinion, a great city of our kin."

"I have been to the city by the Sea of Rhûn," Qadir said. "There you will find lush gardens, sandy beaches along the seashore, and sweet wine to dance on your palate."

He looked over his shoulder at the men behind him, then back at Bard. "If it would not be an imposition, might we join your people for the evening? We have been traveling for many days through the desert from the east seeking to trade in Gondor, and seeing your faces brings great relief to our tired eyes."

The hairs standing on the back of his neck immediately told Bard that these men could not be trusted—but as they'd made no outward move of hostility, and had in fact been gracious in their greeting, he could hardly refuse them. And so he gestured to where the company was gathered. They walked together to the camp, where a number of introductions were made. The men—Easterlings, Magnus speculated quietly in his ear—were friendly and engaging, and though they were subtle about it, he was not remiss to the fact that they paid more attention to the women than the men.

For once, his mind was not occupied with thoughts of Tauriel as he laid down in his tent with Bain later that evening. Try as he might, Bard could not shake the feeling that the men they'd met had sinister intentions.


	43. Chapter 43

**It's hard for me to post this chapter. My good friend and fellow writer Daniella Blue passed away unexpectedly, and this story was a favorite of hers. She was my sounding board for my future stories, and now I've no one with whom I can really discuss my plans. I'll keep going, of course, but right now my heart is hurting. This chapter is dedicated to Daniella.**

 **Violette, Eryn - Dwarrowvale will appear in a future story, so you'll get to see it.**

 **Theresa - The way I imagined Rejna, Thorin would definitely have been taken with her...though he probably wouldn't want to admit it at first.**

 **I'm glad everyone loved the dwarves in the company getting some more screen time.**

* * *

A scream drew Bard from a fitful sleep. It was followed by angry shouts and loud words in a language he did not recognize.

More screaming and the sounds of fighting sounded as he hurried from the tent with Defender in his hand, Bain at his side with his own sword. Several of the Easterlings were engaged in combat with men from the company—he did not see Qadir.

Bain ran toward where Téomas was fighting one of the dark-skinned men in front of Sigrid and Tilda's tent and jumped on the Easterling's back, aiding him in bringing the man down. Bard ran forward as well, shouting for their leader.

"Qadir, you bastard! Show yourself!"

" _Bard!_ "

He turned sharply toward the sound of his name. The voice called for him again and was abruptly cut off with the distinct sound of a slap. Bard ran toward what he now realized was Dorna's tent and ducked into it, where he saw Qadir on top of her, her skirts bunched around her waist.

With a cry of rage he launched himself at the man, knocking him off of the crying woman on the ground. They rolled into the canvas and it tore; Qadir cursed in his language as he threw back an elbow into Bard's face. Pain exploded behind his eye but he ignored it and tried to bring his sword around. Qadir managed to flip and pinned his sword hand, raising his other hand in a fist that Bard managed to deflect into his shoulder with his free hand.

Bard then raised his knee and slammed it into his opponent's side. The force was enough to knock Qadir off of him; he rolled with him and though he lost his grip on his sword he continued to fight, the two trading vicious blows for several minutes, each gaining and losing the upper hand.

Qadir was on top again with one hand around Bard's throat; he had just managed to pull a knife from his boot when Bain and Magnus both came to his aid. The soldier neatly sliced off the Easterling's hand in which the knife had been held even as the younger man pushed his sword through his back. Blood spurted over Bard's face as Bain drew the blade out again, then kicked his father's attacker and knocked him to the ground.

Magnus reached down and offered a hand to Bard and he used it to pull himself up. He wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, then reached down and picked up his sword before heading immediately to Dorna, who still huddled in a ball inside her ruined tent.

"Dorna, it's all right now. He's dead, he can't hurt you anymore," he said softly.

The frightened woman launched herself at him, throwing her arms tightly around his neck. She sobbed against him, her tears wetting his skin as she recounted Qadir's attack on her in broken sentences.

"Did…did he…?" Bard asked, unable to say the words.

She shook her head. "No, but he…he was about to. If you hadn't come along, sire, he…"

Tears poured freely down her cheeks again and she buried her face in his shoulder. Bard encouraged her to follow him out of the tent, and Dorna clung to him as she did so. He looked around at the startled faces of the company as they emerged and stood, taking note of everyone he saw. Bain was kneeling on the ground beside a battered Gudmund, who was bloodied but alive. Téomas held Sigrid in his arms, with Tilda standing close to them.

He watched Magnus direct his boys to stay with Halia and her adopted children, then his bodyguard walked up to him and said, "All the filth are dead, my Lord, but so are three of our men."

Bard grimaced, anger seething inside of him. "Were any of the other ladies attacked?"

Magnus' expression was grim as he nodded. "Gunilla and Iona—their brother died defending them against two of those bastards."

He looked toward where Breha and Peri sat with the two young women; he could see them whispering consoling words to both. "Jary was a good man," he said, then drew a ragged breath. "Gather the wounded together that they may be treated. I'll have Bain and Téomas begin digging graves for our people who were lost."

"And the Easterlings, sire?"

Bard scowled. "Burn them."

* * *

There were only a few who were able to return to sleep after the attack; Bard was not one of them. He stayed up watching the carcasses of the Easterlings burn some hundred yards away from the campsite.

Upon further inspection, it was found that Dorna's tent was not entirely ruined by his fight with Qadir—they'd merely ripped through one side, and it looked to be an easy repair. But she would not settle in it until it had been moved closer to those of his family, where she claimed she would feel much safer. The night guard was doubled and though dawn approached just a few hours later, Bard found he was not tired. When the company rose around sunrise, he suggested another day of rest to give the injured and traumatized time to recover, but they surprised him by saying they'd rather move on.

He supposed he could see why—three of their own lay buried nearby and the pile of Easterling bodies still burned within eyesight of the camp. He didn't really want to stay, either.

So it was that they carried on, keeping to their easterly direction. The men and women who carried arms made sure those who did not, and the children among them, were safely ensconced in the middle of the company, and each was on high alert for signs of danger. It occurred to Bard that his people were not likely to be very trusting of strangers anytime soon, and hoped fervently that no more dangers presented themselves over the next couple of weeks.

* * *

The sight of mountains in the distance several days later was a welcome change of scenery. Bard announced that, according to his map, the Sea of Rhûn lay to the other side, and the end of the River Running to the north of them. This seemed to invigorate the company, who for the next few days walked at a brisker pace until the foothills of the short range were well within view. When they encountered a village at the northern end two weeks after their encounter with the Easterlings, the pace slowed again and they approached with caution, not knowing if these folk might be friend or foe. Happily, the people there turned out to be kin of the folk in Dorwinion, and were gracious enough to offer the company a good night's respite before they moved on to the city itself.

They had heard, of course, about the demise of Smaug, and many of the people there praised Bard for his bravery. When it reached their ears from someone in the company that he was to be crowned king one day, speculation began to circulate as to whether Dorwinion would join the Kingdom of Dale or remain an independent city. Bard made it clear that his intentions were not to force his lordship on anyone, though he did hope there would be those in the city willing to resettle in Dale and Esgaroth, for both cities needed strength of numbers for their defense.

In the early evening hours the day after the company's stop in the hillside village, they came at last upon sight of the sprawling city of Dorwinion. As were so many cities, it was surrounded by a protective wall several meters high, and boasted guard towers at regular intervals. By the time the company had reached the main gate, a number of guardsmen had gathered to greet them.

So too had Erron, a man Bard had not seen in ten years.

"Bard, you old fishmonger!" cried Erron as he embraced him heartily. "What the devil brings you to my humble city—and coming from the west, no less?"

It was with a small but genuine smile that Bard replied to his first wife's cousin, saying, "It is a rather long story, one I will no doubt share with you. But if I may, I would like to see my people settled first. It is a month since we have slept on naught but the ground."

Erron studied him appraisingly for a moment, then said, "Of course! Come, bring your company inside. They shall all have a hot meal and a soft bed tonight."

Bard nodded and bid the band of weary travelers to follow. As they walked, Erron marveled at how much the children had grown—especially Tilda, whom he had not seen since she was two. He declared that since they were kin, they would stay with him in the governor's mansion.

"Governor now, are you?" Bard asked with some surprise. "How on earth did that happen?"

"Two months ago our good Lord Tigan sadly drowned in a boating accident," Erron replied. "Since he had no blood relatives and had named no heir in his will, I as his lieutenant was forced to assume the mantle."

Bard scoffed lightly. "I know how that is."

About an hour later, when all the company were settled in rooms at several inns, with his children, Magnus and his boys, and Dorna all ensconced in rooms in the manor, Bard sat wearily before the empty fireplace in Erron's study. The other man handed him a snifter of wine, urging him to take a good pull as he sat across from him.

"You look as though you need it," he observed.

Bard did as suggested and swallowed two mouthfuls of a fine vintage before saying, "Yes, I certainly do."

"Care to talk about it?"

He snorted, then took another drink. "Not really."

Erron acknowledged with a nod. "I can understand the feeling. But it might help to speak of your thoughts to an objective listener."

"Some of what troubles me is…personal," Bard said. "Though I suppose I ought tell you, as you're like to hear of it eventually and it's best you do so from me first."

"Indeed, cousin. I know well how tales are changed as they are passed from one person to another. I should rather like to hear the clean version from the source over an embellished one that is sullied with speculation and hearsay."

Bard studied the man across from him—a first cousin to Aja, his children's mother—and wondered how much to tell him. Then he looked into the cold hearth and found himself suddenly compelled to spill it all. He'd had no one to confide in since Tauriel had gone. No one with whom he could share his frustrations, his innermost thoughts and feelings. She had been so easy to talk to, he realized, because she listened more than she spoke, and when she did offer a word, she did not judge.

Erron, from his memory of him, was a good man. They weren't close, of course, given how far apart they lived. But they were kin by marriage and had always gotten along well on the occasions they'd shared company. Erron had been more than generous to his family after Aja's death, even to the point of offering to move him and the children down to Dorwinion to live.

So it was that, after releasing a weary sigh, Bard opened up. He spoke of life in Lake-town, of the Master's greed and paranoia. How times had been hard and food and money had been scarce. He spoke of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield and how their quest had led to the destruction of the only home he and his children had ever known. He recounted the atrocities of the battle and how the Lake-town refugees had rallied their spirits in the aftermath to make new lives for themselves. He told Erron all about his own quest to ensure Dale and Esgaroth prospered and grew, and though he was still resistant to the idea, he spoke of the people's desire to put a crown on his head.

Lastly, he told him about Tauriel.

Erron sat across from him and listened, only speaking up to ask a question here and there. When it came to Tauriel, he said nothing at all until Bard had fallen silent. He then rose and fetched a decanter to refill their glasses, and was seated again before he spoke, asking a very blunt question:

"Do you still love her?"


	44. Chapter 44

**For those of you who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving.**

* * *

Bard blinked. "Erron, I told you we are bonded—"

His host silenced him with a wave of his hand. "That's not what I'm asking. Though I know little of Elvish mysticism—that is to say, nothing, as the elves in our woods are as secretive as any other group of their kin—from what you have told me, this bond you share with Tauriel is physical. Is that not so?"

Thinking on it, Bard slowly nodded, briefly feeling surprise that there were elves in the nearby lands. "It certainly _feels_ physical—it is like an added weight that I carry with me always. Even now I can sense it. But Tauriel said it would enhance our emotions as well as bind our souls together."

"Again, not knowing much of Elves, it sounds to me as though you still have a choice as to whether or not you love her. Being bound to her you may not be able to change, mate," Erron said, "but how you feel about her is entirely up to you."

Bard looked to the liquid in his goblet. He swirled it around as he contemplated Erron's question, then said, "Yes. As much as I am loath to admit it at present, I am still very much in love with Tauriel."

He sighed in frustration as he pushed to his feet to pace. "In the weeks since she left, I have alternated between anger and desire so often that I can no longer discern the difference between them."

"Well, both are very passionate emotions," Erron observed.

Bard scoffed. "Indeed. I am so angry that she left without even speaking to me, without giving me a chance to allay her fears—for making me look and feel like such a bloody fool—that were she a man I'd want to give her a sound beating the moment I laid eyes on her."

He paused by the open doors that looked out onto the seashore, and though the moon was now high and shining brightly over the water, setting it to sparkle as had the pool in the glen where he had given himself to Tauriel, Bard could not see the beauty in the sight.

"But she is a woman," he went on, "and one with whom I am in love. In spite of my anger, there is a part of me that desires only to see her again. To hold her in my arms and kiss her senseless, to make love to her so passionately that she is reminded of what it was that she gave up when she ran away."

"I imagine that when you do see her again," Erron said slowly, "you're like to have a good row with her, belting out your anger with words rather than fists, before succumbing to your desire and showing her what it is she's been missing."

Bard laughed without humor. "That's _if_ I see her again, not when."

"As you said, you are bound to each other. With that little buzz in the back of your mind, and undoubtedly hers as well, I daresay neither of you will be able to ignore the other forever."

* * *

After three days of rest and trade in Dorwinion, the company was preparing to move on to the last leg of their long journey.

They were going home.

A buzz of excitement and renewed energy infused those who had departed from Dale and Esgaroth nine weeks before, and in those that had joined them from Rohan and Gondor—and the group from Dorwinion now joining them that was as many as they had started with—there was a sense of expectation and adventure. Most of the party were eager to see home again in but a few more weeks, while others were looking forward to beginning new lives.

Bard was much surprised and gladdened by all that Erron had managed to do in just a few days time. There were wagons full of goods and people to help transport them. Those people were also going to stay in the north, adding to the population of both cities, and as his distant neighbors to the west had said, more were like to travel to Dale and Esgaroth to live in the future.

What surprised him most, however, was the decree that Dorwinion would be joining the Kingdom of Dale once it was established. Bard had tried immediately to refuse him, but Erron would have none of it.

"Why?" he'd asked. "Why would you do this? All I have asked for is that you become our ally—it is not my aim to see you as subjects."

"Bard, had Dale not been sundered by the dragon all those years ago, I've no doubt we would be of the kingdom it would have become already," Erron said. "I have seen historical records that have indicated such was in the planning. Your ancestor Girion would therefore have been king, as you would be now had all not gone awry."

"Do you not think your people will have objection to your declaring Dorwinion under the sovereignty of Dale?"

Erron smiled. "I have already spoken to my advisors—'tis where I was all yesterday afternoon. I have shown them the historical documents, not to mention they have seen for themselves a glimpse of what a fine king you shall make for your people."

"It is but a glimpse," Bard countered. "I do not even know how good a king I shall be. How can you be so sure of me now, when it may be years yet before I am even crowned?"

Placing his hands on Bard's shoulders, Erron smiled and said, "Faith, cousin. I know you—perhaps not as well as I should like to, but I know you. I have seen with my own eyes the love you had for dear Aja, the love you have for your children by her, and the love you have for your people already though you are not yet their king. Bard, you would not have come this far, nor endured and triumphed over the adversities you have faced on this journey, were you not a leader to be followed."

Emotion swelled within him, much as it had when Percy had made a similar speech. "Ever am I amazed at such faith in me, when I have so little in myself at times," he said.

"Humility is a hallmark of a great leader, Bard. That you instill such faith and loyalty in others without even having to ask ought give you greater faith in yourself and your ability to actually do the job, I should think," Erron told him.

Bard laughed then. "The irony in those words is that I said much the same thing to Gudmund several weeks ago. Perhaps it is time I take my own advice."

Together they walked out to meet the gathered company, where Erron exchanged goodbyes with the people he'd gotten to know. He gave hugs and kisses to Bard's girls and shook hands with Bain before turning to Bard once more. He embraced him last, saying softly in his ear, "Your queen will return to you, cousin. Have faith in that too."

"On that I can make no promise," Bard replied when they parted, then climbed up on Huron.

After a final thanks and farewell to the people of Dorwinion, and to Erron, he gave a light kick to his horse's flank to begin the march toward home. A short debate had been had about which side of the river they should follow—if they marched on the east bank, they would have to cross the Redwater tributary that came down from the Iron Hills. The advantage of walking the east bank is that both Esgaroth and Dale were easily reached as both cities were on that side of the River Running. If they walked north on the west bank, they would not have to cross until they reached Dale, at which time they would take the bridge across, though the folk going to Esgaroth would have to backtrack on the eastern bank to reach home.

So it was decided that they would keep to the east bank, as none from Esgaroth wanted to spend any more time away from home than was necessary. There were a number of villages situated along the river that the company would pass, but another mutual decision was made that they would not stop unless invited to do so—home, though still weeks away yet, beckoned like a brightly lit beacon in the deepest night. Those who had left family behind were eager to see them again. With the end of the journey so near, no delay was deemed reasonable in the eyes of the people.

The only part of going home that no one was looking forward to was having to relay the news of death. The company had been particularly blessed, Bard mused at one point, to have lost but six of their number. All had fallen to the blade of dark forces. That no one had caught an illness of any kind was nothing short of miraculous.

* * *

At just past noon on the twenty-first day out of Dorwinion, a most blessed sight was spotted on the horizon:

Esgaroth. For some of them, it was home. A loud cheer rang out from all in the company and they picked up their pace. If Esgaroth was so close by, it meant that those going on to Dale would see home shortly after nightfall. The Lonely Mountain, too—though they had seen its peak in the distance for some miles—loomed ever larger, renewing the excitement to see home for their Dwarven companions as well.

Even Bard could not keep a smile from his lips when someone—Gudmund, he thought with a silent laugh—began to sing off-key about the happiness of seeing home again after many days away. It was an old travelers' song and he was soon joined by all who knew the words. Bard had no doubt that the cacophony of sound is what drew the attention of the group of cheering folk now coming toward them.

On seeing their neighbors, friends, and family, some of the Esgaroth group broke away from the column and ran forward. They were met halfway with fierce embraces, kisses, and laughter. Bard slipped from Huron's back and clasped Percy's forearm as the city's master came up to him.

"So very good to have you back at last, sire!" the older man said, drawing him into a warm embrace.

"It is good to see you too, Lord Percy. Truly you are a sight for weary eyes," Bard said with a smile.

Percy acknowledged Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda with a wave, saying they looked well. His eyes then darted around the gathered company, before returning to Bard.

"Where is Lady Tauriel?" he asked.

Bard stifled a sigh. He'd known the people back home would wonder at her absence, but it didn't make having to answer the question any easier. "She left us in Lothlórien," he replied shortly. "Come, let us go into your new city—which looks to me as though much has been done indeed in our absence—that I may share with you news both good and ill."

Percy looked as though he wanted to know more, but he held his tongue and led the way.

* * *

 **Tauriel returns on Monday.**


	45. Chapter 45

**My deepest thanks to everyone who expressed condolences over the loss of my friend, Daniella Blue. She was so awesome and fun to talk story ideas with, and I still think of her every time a new one comes to me. I wish she was here to share them with... Please, if you have not already, go and give her two stories a read - they are _The Scribe and the Serving Girl_ and _Beneath a Cold Spring_. Trust me, if you're a fan of the dwarves, you will not be disappointed. **

**Thank you to all who left reviews. I liked getting a little more action in there, and I loved writing the company getting home. I didn't give much thought to whether Bard's wife favored her cousin or if they were even close - I just thought it would be interesting if he encountered actual family in Dorwinion, which the LotR Wiki says had "close ties to the Northmen of Dale". Then, of course, I had to put a twist on it and make it someone from his late wife's family and not his own. Maybe she was from Dorwinion, who knows?**

 **As for Dorna, I dunno about her. I feel like she was genuinely under attack but that it's entirely possible she enticed Qadir into her tent - or at least gave him the impression she was interested. And even if she did invite him, the sounds of fighting outside would have made even her stupid arse realize that she'd made a huge mistake.**

 **Now for more Tauriel, with Legolas being awesome and a surprise for everyone (I hope).**

* * *

The following evening, Tauriel received another surprise visitor: Legolas.

He knocked lightly and entered her room almost reluctantly. Despite the tension that lay between them, she offered him a smile. "It is so good to see you again, _mellon nín_. How… how did you fair on your escort mission?"

Legolas' plain expression flickered ever so briefly. "I did not go with the Rangers on that journey," he told her. "Though it was a genuine mission of mercy, I departed with them only because Lord Elrond wished no one to know the true purpose of my leaving Rivendell."

"Oh," she said, and looked away from him, not knowing what else to say.

"I am come to escort you to the library," Legolas said then.

Tauriel glanced up. "Whatever for?"

"I am not certain of the subject matter to be discussed, only that I was sent on special errand to collect someone who would participate in it. Come, they are waiting for you."

With a nod, she took the hand he offered to help her rise from the chair she was sitting in. They left her room in silence, and by the time they had exited the House of Healing, she could stand it no longer. Taking him by the arm, she pulled him to a stop.

"Legolas, wait." He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "I am sorry," she went on. "It is not my intention to wound you by not being open with you, as always I have been. It is just that what grieves me is too painful even for me to dwell upon, and I would not burden you with my many sorrows."

The prince's features softened and he took a step toward her. "Tauriel, my friend… _gwathel nín_ …nothing you share with me—no pain, no sorrow, no joy—would ever be a burden. Do you not trust that I will stand with you in all things?"

She didn't want to cry in front of him, she truly didn't, but his ready and complete acceptance of her brought the tears forth unbidden, and she raised a hand to her lips as she turned away and choked back a sob. The _ellon_ beside her had risked a great deal to defend her in the face of his father's wrath, including banishment from his own home, as she had already received. She knew she had broken his heart by giving her own to another, though she'd doubted he had cared for her in that way, and yet here he was. As always, her friend. Her brother.

"You will think me such a fool," Tauriel said when at last she found her voice. "But as by now you already know, I am wed. I fell in love. Again. With a mortal. _Again_. But I lead with my heart, Legolas—my bleeding, broken heart—as I desired so desperately to be free of the pain I suffered losing the first one. Neither time did I give due thought to what effect loving a mortal might have on me, and that has led to my ruin."

Legolas moved to stand beside her. "I don't understand. What ruin? And where is the one to whom you are bound? Did he leave you?"

The surge of protectiveness she heard in his voice, that ever-present willingness to defend her, almost made her laugh. "No, I left him. I saw a vision of the future in the Mirror of Galadriel in Lothlórien, and I saw his death—and though he died as all Edain should, as an old man safe in his bed surrounded by those he loves, watching him pass was too great a sorrow for me to bear. I knew in that moment that if I stayed and watched him wither, I would not survive him by long. So I ran—I ran away from he who loved me because I am too afraid to watch him die."

Tauriel glanced up briefly and saw sympathy in her companion's eyes, along with a heavy dose of pity. "I know what you're thinking—that I am most selfish indeed to value my immortality so highly."

"It is not what I was thinking at all," Legolas countered. "My only thought was that you must love him deeply, to the depths of your soul, as to be so consumed with fear over a grief that will not possess you for many years to come."

She nodded as more tears fell silently down her cheeks. Legolas placed his arm about her shoulders and drew her to him. Tauriel leaned into the embrace, and found her turmoil lightened, though only by a fraction, for having confessed the truth. Though certainly he would be curious as to who her mate was, she was grateful he did not ask, for thoughts of Bard and what he and the children were doing, how they would react to the news that she carried a child in her womb, only made her feel worse.

After a long moment, she drew a ragged breath and stood straight. Wiping furiously at her face, Tauriel nodded and without a word, Legolas turned and continued down the path between buildings. She walked at his side as they entered the main hall and headed for the library, where they found Ranárë waiting outside the door.

"Ah, there you are—is everything all right, _Aranel_?" she asked, her expression and her voice conveying concern.

Tauriel didn't answer, saying instead, "There you go again with the princess thing. Pray tell, what _is_ that all about?"

Ranárë was once again surprised that she had understood the Quenya word for "Princess", as she'd made it known she knew very little of the ancient language. The Maia then glanced at Legolas, and Tauriel suddenly remembered having been told they knew each other—though until they'd met on his first journey to Imladris, Legolas had not seen her since he was a mere 170 years old…when his mother had died.

"You are about to find out," she said, and opened the door for her.

Tauriel moved to step past her, but when she sensed Legolas was not following, she turned back to him. "Will you not be joining us?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I have not been invited."

"Consider yourself invited," she said firmly. "I would have a trusted friend with me to hear this apparently dire news—though given what you now know, there is little more that could harm me."

Legolas nodded and followed in silence, and Ranárë closed the door behind them as she came in last. The moment she entered, Tauriel saw Elrond sitting at the center table with another elf, one whom she did not recognize. There seemed to be an almost palpable air of sorrow about the man, who looked up upon their entrance and immediately set his gaze to roaming over her face. His penetrating scrutiny made her nervous, as did the disturbing sense of familiarity she felt when she looked into his eyes.

The black-haired _ellon_ turned to Elrond. "It is true, then, what you have said. She is of my blood."

Elrond sighed and nodded as Tauriel stepped closer to the table. "What do you mean? Who are you?" she demanded.

"You will want to be seated when you hear this, my Lady," said her host.

Fighting a sudden and irrational urge to flee, Tauriel did as suggested. Legolas immediately took the seat to her right, his expression fairly close to a scowl as he regarded the man she now assumed he had been sent to find.

"What do you know of your family, child?" said the man across from her.

Frowning, she asked, "Why do you want to know?"

Ranárë, who had taken the seat to her left, between her and Elrond, said gently, "It is very important we hear what you know, _Aranel_."

The use of that title was beginning to irritate her, as she had yet to explain it, but Tauriel pushed that thought aside. "My mother and father were Silvan Elves who came from the far west to the Woodland Realm when it was still known as Greenwood the Great," she said. "They settled there shortly before the end of the Second Age and joined Thranduil's Guard, in which they served until their deaths six hundred years ago."

"And how old are you?"

She frowned again. "I was begat six hundred thirty-six years ago this autumn."

"What was your mother's name? Your father's name?"

"My mother was called Lúnairien and my father Vanendil."

"From which did you inherit your red hair? Do you know anything of your grandparents on either side?"

"I believe my mother's mother was called Eilaia, though I do not know the name of her father as she never told me. And I know nothing of my father's parents as I do not recall his speaking of them. It was my mother from whom I inherited red hair. She had it as well—her name means 'dark red maiden', after all. What is the purpose of all these questions?" Tauriel demanded. "Who _are_ you?"

"My name is Maglor, and I believe I am your grandfather."

She blinked. "I'm sorry… what?"

The name was familiar, a distant memory etched in the recesses of her mind. She tried to grasp it but could not, though Legolas, it seemed, had no such trouble. He stood defiantly, a cloud of anger in his eyes.

" _This_ is what you sent me for?" he spat at Elrond. "I fetched this kinslayer for you that he might sully an already tortured mind with his lies?"

"It is no lie, Prince Legolas," spoke up Ranárë before Elrond could defend himself. "You forget that I was the one who carried Tauriel here after the Rangers and I discovered her in Hollin. I smelled her blood as it spilled onto me, and though at the time it was tainted with orc poison, there could be no mistaking the tang of Fëanorian in her flesh. He is her grandfather."

"And how in Morgoth's name would you know what Fëanorian blood smells like?" the prince asked snidely.

Ranárë's expression solidified into a cold mask. "I know its scent because I have spilled it—I am the one that felled Amras, son of Fëanor and brother to Maglor, in defense of the lord of this city and his twin brother."

Maglor flinched when she spoke of killing his brother, while Elrond blinked in surprise. Tauriel staved off further argument by saying, "This cannot be true. My parents were Silvan Elves. I am a Silvan Elf."

"If that is what they told you, it was a very clever lie," Maglor said kindly. "Your father is likely of Telerin descent, for large ears are a trait of theirs—though he could possibly be of mixed lineage and share blood with the Ñoldor or the Sindar. Your mother was no doubt of the Ñoldor, for her mother was my wife and we are both of us Ñoldorin. For you to be of Silvan birth is highly unlikely."

"You believe Lúnairien was your daughter, then?" asked Elrond.

Maglor looked at him, the sadness Tauriel had sensed when first she walked in flickering across his countenance. "I know the name Eilaia as well as I know my own, or yours," he said. "She hid our child from me very well. And she was right to—for too long I was not worthy to know my own flesh."

"You are not worthy to know it now," Legolas said sharply as he dropped back into his chair.

Though Maglor appeared to agree with the assessment, Elrond admonished the younger elf, saying, "Legolas, the last kinslaying was more than six thousand years ago. If I as a survivor of that horror can forgive Maglor his transgressions, you who were not born for more than an age after should look past them as well."

Ranárë glanced at each man in turn, before her eyes fell at last upon Tauriel. "I do not think it is for us to forgive him or not," she said quietly.

Tauriel looked directly at Maglor as her memories of childhood lessons came to her. "You are certain my foremother was your wife, and my own mother your child?"

He nodded. "That particular shade of coppery red is a trait of my family, on my good mother Nerdanel's side. Even were it common amongst the Eldar, I would know you as my blood for you look exactly like my mother, save for your eyes."

They were all of them quite surprised when suddenly she began to laugh. It was a quiet chuckle at first, and she tried to contain it, setting her whole body to shaking with the effort. But then it burst forth from her and from the four expressions around her, it appeared they believed she had gone momentarily mad.

"My Lady Ranárë," Tauriel said, her shoulders still quivering. "Now I understand why you suddenly started calling me 'princess'."

"Indeed," the other woman replied. "It seemed only right to give you such an _epessë_ , as you are a direct descendant of a High King of the Ñoldor. But I do not understand why it makes you laugh."

"Well, for one thing," she said as she stood. "I'm still not entirely certain I believe a single word of this. It all seems very contrived, very convenient that the lowly Silvan Elf should suddenly find herself to be of royal blood. Oh, my dear Legolas, if only your father were here—I'd certainly love to see Thranduil's face should he learn that I am worthy of your affections after all."

Tauriel continued to chuckle mirthlessly until she reached the door, at which she turned and favored the others with sudden silence and a look that was surely as forlorn as she felt. "Then again, perhaps it is best he isn't. After all, that royal blood is tainted, is it not? For I am the granddaughter of a kinslayer."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _gwathel nín_ \- my sworn sister

 **Quenya:**

 _epessë_ \- aftername (nickname)


	46. Chapter 46

**Thanks for the reviews, thanks for following, thanks for favoriting... You all have no idea how much it means to me that folks are enjoying this story enough to do any of that.**

 **ErnestShippinglane89 - A connection to Maglor is not improbable at all. If one holds that the only elves who had red hair were Nerdanel's family (as she, her father, and three of her sons were the only elves mentioned to have had that color hair), then the very fact that Tauriel's hair was red is an instant indicator of that lineage. Might not have been the motivation for the movie makers, but it's perfect for a writer such as myself...and ever other fanfic writer who has created a connection between Tauriel and** **Fëanor because of it.**

 **Violette - Having read this far, I would have hoped you'd have thought better of me than that.**

* * *

For more than an hour, Tauriel wandered the grounds, no particular destination in mind.

Fitting, that seemed, as she could not settle her thoughts. Her mind wandered as she did.

At last, however, she found herself in the garden where she had met Elladan and Elrohir. She found a bench to sit on and tried to draw her tumultuous thoughts into some semblance of order, though she soon gave it up as useless—if she hadn't done so by now, they would not be reined in until she was ready to accept or disbelieve what she had been told.

But how could she believe it? So doing would mean naming her parents as liars. It would mean shedding an identity she'd carried about her all her life. And what good was being a princess anyway, when the bloodline from whence she came was ruined by the misdeeds of her forebears? When she had no kingdom to inherit?

With difficulty, she quieted the little voice that reminded her there was one of which she would have been queen, had she only the courage to face her fears.

Tauriel was soon aware that she was not alone in the garden. Looking over her shoulder, she noted the form of another standing in deep shadow. Again the odd sense of familiarity came over her, and she sighed as she turned away.

"You may as well come forth, I know you are there," she said.

Moments later, the impossibly tall figure of Maglor appeared beside her. Even though still shrouded in sorrow—and shame, she now saw—his bearing was regal and proud. He carried with him an ornately carved wooden box.

"May I join you?" he asked in Sindarin.

She responded in kind. "You are already here, so you might as well be seated."

With a nod, he turned and sat beside her. For several moments neither spoke, and Tauriel used that time to study his profile out of the corner of her eye. Through he carried himself with an air of authority, the behavior likely a holdover from his days as a revered Ñoldorin prince, he was dressed rather plainly. Were it not for the pointed tip of his ear poking through his hair or the fairness of his face, she would have judged him to be a vagabond of Men.

"Why is it I sense a familiarity with you?" she found herself asking. "Before tonight we had never met."

Maglor glanced sideways at her. "Did you not get that same feeling with anyone else?"

Tauriel nodded, though she did not meet his gaze. "With my mother and father," she confessed. "As well as Galadriel of Lothlórien and Lord Elrond's children—Arwen I met in the Golden Wood and the twins I met here."

"It is a gift bestowed on the Eldar by Illúvatar himself that we recognize our blood kin, even those we have never before met," said her companion softly. "I knew you as my blood the moment I laid eyes upon you. You felt the bond of kinship with Galadriel and her grandchildren because she and I, and you by association, share common ancestry—my grandfather is hers also, and our fathers half-brothers. The gift also allows us to sense those to whom we are bonded by marriage."

Of that, Tauriel thought morosely, she was already painfully aware.

"So we are related."

He nodded. "I am sorry that this comes to you as a shock. I can see also that it is news most unwelcome, adding to the already great number of burdens you bear."

She laughed without humor. "They are great in number only to me, and each is of my own doing—I have no one to blame but myself."

"Will you speak to me of your troubles, _Indyeldë_?" he asked.

Now Tauriel looked up at him. "Why would I do that?"

A defeated look flitted through Maglor's eyes, and she was instantly sorry she'd been sharp. He looked away from her and shrugged as he said, "I suppose you would not. After all, you do not know me save for what my lips and the history of this world have told you. Mine is a past of which I am deeply ashamed, my family one of which I am not entirely proud. To say that I have been repenting of my sins for millennia is small comfort to either of us."

With a sigh, he glanced over and said, "Your mother was right to keep your lineage a secret from you, if she did so consciously. There is none in our family on my side of it of whom you can say you are proud to share blood, save perhaps Celebrimbor. He was your cousin, the son of my brother Curufin, and he died defying the will of Sauron the Deceiver in the Second Age."

"Isn't Celebrimbor the one who made the Three Rings of Power and gave them to the Elves?"

Maglor nodded again. "He and his followers made many magic rings, but those three were the greatest of them. He was tortured by the Dark Lord to reveal where all the rings lesser to the One were located, but the Elven rings he would not give up. They are protected still in the hands of their keepers."

He looked at her again with something akin to a smile. "Should you choose to acknowledge your lineage, you might also consider that my mother is worthy to be called your kin—she was not foolish enough to follow my father on his ill-fated quest to recover those damned Silmarils. As far as I know, she lives still in Aman. I have uncles and aunts and cousins there still, as well. And there is, of course, Galadriel and the children of Elrond—who are also untainted by the blood of Fëanor."

Silence again fell between them for a time, until Tauriel asked, "What does _Indyeldë_ mean?"

The ghost of a smile came to him once again. "It is a Quenya word. It means 'granddaughter'—though I will not speak it again if it makes you uncomfortable."

Maglor turned to her more fully. "It was not my desire to come here and hurt you, Tauriel. But when your temperamental friend came to me in the north with my foster-son's letter, which said that there was a chance I had blood kin of the House of Fëanor living here still, I had to come even though I believed the possibility unlikely. And then when I looked upon your beauty and saw my _ammë_ , I felt within me the stirring of hope that… that there was a chance for redemption still. I cannot undo the horror of the past, but what I _can_ do is try to be a better man than I was. For many thousands of years I have walked the shores of the west and felt so achingly alone…"

His voice trailed off and he turned away from her again. His large hands, which she suddenly noted were gloved, kneaded the box he held. Before she could stop the words from being spoken, she asked him what was inside.

Another smile teased at the corners of his mouth. "Though I did not believe Elrond's letter, I still dared to hope he was not wrong. So I brought a gift for you—something I am certain you will reject but I pray you will keep, and think of me fondly when you wear it. I had hoped to give it to your grandmother, but she left me soon after our arrival in Middle-earth and disappeared—apparently with my unborn child in her womb—before I could. I have kept it with me all this time in case I ever saw her again."

Maglor then held the box out to her, which Tauriel took hesitantly. She marveled at the design carved into the wood before she lifted the lid and gasped at what she saw beneath. Nestled on a blanket of blue satin was a gorgeous silver circlet with scrolling tendrils wound around each other across the brow, and in the center was set a dazzling jewel that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

"The jewel is a moonstone carved out of a mountain in Valinor in the first Year of the Sun, and shaped under the light of a full moon," her companion said softly. "In moonlight it will glow, but under the rays of a full moon it will shine all the brighter."

"It is very beautiful," she replied as she closed the lid over the crown.

"'Tis a headdress worthy of a princess. Please, keep it. If I can give you nothing else of value, let me give you this."

Tauriel looked at him, really looked, and saw such raw vulnerability in the depths of his eyes that she found she could not bring herself to refuse. And then, much to her surprise, she began to tell him of her life, from her earliest memories up through her union with Bard, and how her fear of fading upon his death had led her to flee from him.

"The irony of my meeting you tonight," she said at the end, "is that I left him as my grandmother left you, with a child in my belly."

Maglor's eyes widened in surprise. "I did not know it at the time, of course," she added hastily. "In fact, I only learned of my condition yesterday."

"The House of Fëanor continues?" he asked, as if in awe.

With a tilt of her head, she replied, "Yes, I suppose it does."

His face now lit up in a full-blown smile. "I cannot tell you how very happy hearing that makes me, _Indyeldë_. Though I grieve your fear of fading, I am quite overjoyed that you would share that with me. Thank you."

She smiled in return. "You are welcome, Maglor."

Looking down at the box in her hands, Tauriel added, "And thank you, for this is a most lovely gift."

They both of them laughed a little when at that moment she yawned. Maglor stood and offered her his hand. "Allow me the honor of escorting you to your chambers."

"If it pleases you," she said, and placed her hand in his.

It was not until they were before her chamber door that she worked up the courage to ask him why he wore gloves, when summer was soon to arrive. Maglor frowned, then opened her door for her.

"I have no desire to spawn unpleasant dreams, Tauriel," he said. "Needless to say, my own nightmares are not the only reminders of the evil I took part in. Now you get in there and get some sleep, _muin nín_. Take care of yourself and your child."

With a nod, Tauriel stepped into her room. Bidding him good night, she closed the door between them. There she stayed until the sound of his footfalls could no longer be heard, and then she crossed the room and placed the box with his gift on the mantle over the fireplace. Unable to resist, she lifted the lid and gazed at the Elven-styled tiara for a moment, her finger tracing over the smooth surface of the moonstone, before she closed the lid over it once more and made to dress for bed.

* * *

 **Quenya:**

 _Indyeldë_ – granddaughter

 _ammë_ – mother

 **Sindarin:**

 _muin nín_ – my dear


	47. Chapter 47

She and Maglor had parted amicably, at which Tauriel was relieved, but a visit by Ranárë shortly after he left led to sleep that was disturbed by an unsettling dream.

An elf maiden with dark hair lightly kissed the cheek of a sleeping man who bore a striking resemblance to Maglor, before picking up a travelling pack and making her way through the dimly lit corridors of a grand house. She stepped out into the night and made her way toward the nearby forest, where she turned and took a last look at the house, a tear falling down her cheek as she bid her husband good bye.

She then saw the same Elven woman speaking to a young, red-haired _elleth_. She told the crying girl that her father had abandoned them to follow a dark path, and that was why she had no _ada_ like the other children. One day, she hoped, the Valar—or perhaps Eru himself—would show him the error of his ways and guide him back to the light. Maybe then, she said, she or her offspring would know the man who sired her.

Tauriel saw her mother next, standing beside her father on the dock before a great ship—the dark-haired maiden was preparing to board the vessel. Their goodbye was tearful, as the younger had no desire to go and the elder felt she could no longer stay. As the boat pulled away from the shore, the woman told herself she had done the right thing in not telling her child who her father was. She deserved a life free of the burden such a dark legacy would set upon her shoulders.

She had woken with a start after that, and found herself unable to return to sleep. Tauriel wondered if the dream had been the past come to reveal itself or if it had been only her imagination run wild. Either way, it seemed she could not escape thinking about the fact that she now had a grandfather—she had family, kin she could call her own. But did she _want_ to know him? Yes, she knew what he'd done in the past, but was he still the vengeful elf who had slain his own kind in worthless pursuit of jewels he still did not possess? Or had he truly changed in the years that had passed since he and his brothers were defeated?

There was but one way she could learn the answers to those questions, and had concluded she would give Maglor a chance to prove himself. The young elf who'd lost her only family and had always felt just a little out of place was suddenly crying out to be loved. Maybe Maglor could give her a little of that before he returned to wherever it was Legolas had found him—for she knew without doubt that he would, eventually. A part of her was pleased, too, that she could say Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen were also kin, for she liked the three siblings very much. Their grandmother, however, she harbored ill feelings for, as Galadriel and her mirror had led her to run away from Bard.

She had just dressed and was braiding her hair when there was a knock at the door. Tauriel hurried to tie off the braid and went to answer it. Maglor stood on the other side, his hands behind his back and a timid smile on his face.

" _Aur maer, Indyeldë_ ," he greeted her with a bow of his head.

" _Aur maer_ ," she replied, then tilted her head as she regarded him. "How do you say 'grandfather' in Quenya? I regret that I know very little of the ancient language, for Sindarin is the native tongue of the wood-elves. In Mirkwood, Quenya was used only in special ceremonies, and even then I am certain my Lord Thranduil read from a script."

Maglor blinked. "You…wish to call me Grandfather?"

"If I am to accept that we are kin, as my elder it is hardly respectful for me to address you by your given name," Tauriel said with a shrug.

When he did not immediately reply, his surprised gaze simply holding hers, Tauriel began to wonder if she'd asked too soon. Maybe she should have gotten to know him better before seeking a familial _epessë_ by which to call him…even if he'd already called her 'granddaughter' a number of times.

" _Haru_."

She blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

A smile slowly formed. " _Haru_ is 'grandfather' in a dialect which predates the Quenya that would be learned on these shores. I would consider it a great honor if you chose to address me as such."

Returning his smile, she nodded. "Very well… _Haru_. Now, what can I do for you?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "I should think it obvious—I came to escort you to breakfast, if you would allow it."

"As did I."

Tauriel looked past Maglor to see Legolas in the corridor. The thinly veiled scowl he wore told her he was none too pleased to see the elder _ellon_ , and she resisted the urge to groan. She neither wanted nor needed the added stress of his distrust of Maglor to worry about.

 _Best to draw the line for them, before either one makes a remark he will regret_ , she mused.

Drawing a breath, Tauriel encompassed both men in her gaze as she said, "I am only going to say this once: Both of you are kin to me, one by blood and the other by choice. You do not have to like each other, but you will treat each other with respect in my presence. I will have it no other way."

Legolas had the grace to look at least mildly chagrined; he bowed his head briefly as he replied, "Of course."

Maglor nodded as well. "Agreed," he said. "Though for the record, I bear no dislike of the woodland prince. In fact, I hold him in high regard."

Tauriel glanced at Legolas, who frowned. "You do?" the latter asked.

"Yes. I can see that you care deeply about Tauriel and have her best interests at heart. It is clear that you desire to see her protected, and for that you have both my gratitude and admiration."

Clearly nonplussed, Legolas remained silent, offering only a nod in reply. Tauriel considered it a step forward, though she half suspected the truce would not last long.

* * *

Maglor stayed in Imladris a week. In those seven days, he spent as much time with Tauriel as she would allow—escorting her to meals, joining her for walks, even playing music for her. She once convinced him to visit the Rangers' hall with her, the residential building set aside for the use of the militia-like group when they came to rest in the valley. It was far enough away from the main halls that the rather rowdy bunch could be as loud and boisterous as they liked without disturbing the more sedate Elven residents. Tauriel had found she rather enjoyed spending an evening dancing and singing with the Rangers, who had accepted her readily as a fellow warrior. Gilraen often played hostess, for she lived in the hall with her son and sisters.

The archery range was another place he visited with her, to watch as she and Bronwë—joined by Elladan, Elrohir, and even Legolas—were at last able to hold a contest of skill. Maglor seemed rather proud of her proficiency with the weapon, and she was bested only by Legolas, who had been her teacher.

When Maglor announced his intention to return to the shores of the sea, Tauriel was rather surprised by how disappointed she was that he would not stay with her longer. She'd sensed from the beginning that he would leave at some point, but she'd thought they would have more than a week together.

Before he mounted his horse on the day of departure, Maglor stood before her and said, "Thank you, Tauriel. You have been a balm on my tortured soul. Just knowing you exist, and are soon to bear my great-grandchild… it makes me happier than I have been in countless years."

Touched by his words, Tauriel stepped up to him and drew him down into an embrace. He stiffened at first, and then with a sigh wrapped his arms about her waist.

"I am glad to know you exist as well, _Haru_. To know that I have family, that I'm not alone in this world. No matter what each of us has done in the past or what choices we make for our future, that will never change."

Taking a step back, Maglor smiled, then dipped his head to kiss her brow. " _Namárië, Indyeldë_. _Tenna' ento lye omenta_."

Emotion swelled within her and she smiled. " _Aur siluva thar i lû_."

Maglor nodded and then climbed into the saddle. Once atop his horse, he raised his arm across his chest in salute and bowed his head. Tauriel mimicked the gesture, and remained standing at the gate after he turned and rode away, until horse and rider could no longer be seen in the distance.

Approaching footsteps sounded to her ears and she turned to see Legolas had come up behind her.

"I am rather surprised," he began, "at your ready acceptance of him. Maglor is a kinslayer, Tauriel."

She fought the urge to groan as she stepped away from the gate and started toward the main house. "That does not make him a liar, Legolas. Lady Ranárë smelt his blood in mine; as she is a Maia possessed of unique abilities, I have no reason to doubt her, either. Besides, I felt our kinship."

Legolas paused in mid-step. "You did?"

Tauriel turned to him. "Yes, I did. Whether you like it or not—whether _I_ like it or not—the man is my family."

She did not mention her kinship to Galadriel, the twins, or Arwen, as he likely already knew of Maglor's relation to Galadriel and therefore her own. She also did not mention the child she carried. Legolas did not yet know of it and she would not lay another of her burdens at his feet.

"I see." He started walking again and she fell into step beside him. "Forgive me. I feared you clove to him for the wrong reasons. I ought know you better than that."

"Yes, you should. I do not accept him due to some foolish, desperate need to belong, if that's what you were thinking. I accept Maglor as my grandfather because I have no reason not to believe him and he has no reason to lie. I know what he's done, but that does not change who he is to me. For once, I make this choice with logic and not emotion."

They fell silent as they reached the main hall and stepped into the courtyard. After stopping to rest on a bench, Legolas turned to her and asked, "What did you mean last week when you said that now my father would find you worthy of my affections?"

Damn. She'd hoped he had forgotten that. "It does not matter, _gwador nín_."

"It matters to me," he countered.

With a heavy sigh, his tone having indicated he would not let the matter drop, Tauriel recounted the night Thranduil had given her warning not to encourage his son's feelings for her. Legolas stood abruptly and paced away, fuming and muttering curses against his father in Sindarin.

"I should never have mentioned it," she said as she stood. "I'm sorry, Legolas. I was in shock when those words were spoken and did not consider their impact. Now you are angry."

"Yes, I am, but not with you," he replied bitterly. "It is my father's fault we are both of us in the circumstances we are. Had he not interfered, you'd not have spent so much time in the dungeons and opened the way for that bloody dwarf to charm you. Your heart would not then have been so torn by his death that it sought solace with yet another mortal whose impending demise already haunts you. If you were free to allow my suit of you, as I have desired in secret for so long that I am now too late, you would have no need to fear death—mine or your own."

" _Gwador_ , did you not hear me? Your father would never have allowed you to bind yourself to a lowly Silvan—"

"Stop that nonsense, Tauriel," Legolas interrupted sharply. "I've told you many times, you are not a 'lowly' Silvan elf."

Tauriel scoffed. "No. Apparently I'm a Ñoldorin princess from a disgraced bloodline—which I imagine will amount to the same thing in your father's eyes."

"Your lineage matters to no one but him," he told her. "Whether your blood is Silvan or Ñoldo, it does not matter to _me_. It never did."

Emotion caught in her throat and she had to force herself to smile through the tears that threatened. "It means more to me than I can express that you think so highly of me. And though my affection for you has always been that of a sister for her brother, I am beyond flattered that you would desire me for your bride."

Her smile turned sad. "But it was not our destiny to be more than sworn siblings, dearest Legolas. Mine, it seems, is to always love those who will leave me."

Legolas regarded her for a long moment before his expression fell to one of resignation. "And mine?" he asked.

"I cannot tell you that. I think you must discover for yourself where your destiny lies—perhaps it is with the boy your father sent you in search of."

He had told her, after the reveal about her lineage, the reason he had come to Imladris. Thranduil had suggested he seek out the Dúnedain and a Ranger called Strider—Legolas had not expected to find him still a child.

"I cannot imagine what destiny lies in store for me that is tied with Estel," Legolas mused. "But I suppose I shall find out."

* * *

Tauriel returned to her room after lunch that afternoon for some rest. Pregnancy, she had quickly learned, could either fill her with excess energy or sap all that she possessed. Today, the goodbye to Maglor and the heart-to-heart discussion with Legolas that followed had left her drained.

After closing her chamber door, she turned around and stopped short—on top of the box containing the tiara Maglor had given her was a folded piece of parchment. She wondered who had left her a note even as she plucked it down and opened it.

 _My dearest Tauriel,_

 _By the time you read this, I will have already gone. Understand that I do not go because I wish to, but because I must. Regrettably, I am bound to my father's cursed jewels still, and that which I cast into the sea over an age ago calls to me as a siren does to those who sail the open waters—and one can only ignore the song for so long._

 _I wish you to know that this last week has been one of the happiest I have ever known. Long have I believed myself to be the last of my bloodline on these shores, and to know that I have kin—though we may be far from one another—has brought a joy to my heart the depth of which cannot be measured. I love you, Indyeldë, and I love the child you carry. The two of you are proof that there is hope of redemption for the House of Fëanor still._

 _In fact, I think you_ are _our redemption._

 _Tauriel, I know that you are afraid to return to the one you love because you fear his death will lead you to fade. My dear, you are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I beg you, do not give up on your heart's desire without fighting for it with every fiber of your being. I gave up on your grandmother and look what it cost me—I never had the privilege of knowing my own daughter. Do not deny Bard his child as mine was denied to me through Eilaia's will and my own foolishness. Be fair to him, and give him a chance to know the babe._

 _Give him a chance to forgive you—to love you—for if you do, I am sure he will._

 _Whatever you do, wherever you go, know that you are forever in my heart._

 _With deepest love and affection,_

 _Maglor_

Tears splattered onto the page, smudging the ink in more than one place, as Tauriel read the words over again. In her heart, she knew he was right. She owed it to Bard, and to the life they had created, to give them a chance to know each other.

It would be three more weeks before she plucked up the courage to do so. She read Maglor's letter every night, trying to glean strength from his support even though he was miles away. Eventually, she broke down and sought the advice of Elrond, who listened without judgment as she spoke to him of Kíli—whom he revealed he had met the year before—and of Bard, who had taken the broken pieces of her heart and held them gently in his hands as he put them back together…without her even realizing it. She confessed she was surprised that it had taken so little time for her to fall in love again, and with a gentle smile her host spoke a line in Quenya that had reached deep into her soul (once he translated the words): " _Umilvë cilmë melmë. Canis ilya quén ve canuvas, ar mapas tenna ëa munta lemyaina_."

And then he told her a story that sparked a flame of hope.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Aur maer_ – Good morning

 _Tenna' ento lye omenta_ – Until next we meet.

 _Aur siluva thar i lû_. – Sunlight will shine over the occasion.

 _gwador_ _nín_ – my sworn brother

 **Qenya** (earliest form of Quenya) **:**

 _Haru_ – Grandfather

 **Quenya:**

 _Umilvë cilmë melmë. Canis ilya quén ve canuvas, ar mapas tenna ëa munta lemyaina_. – We do not choose love. It claims each man as it will, and grips until there's nothing left.


	48. Chapter 48

**Thanks of course go out to all my reviewers and everyone who reads without saying so. I am just happy that people are enjoying this story.**

* * *

Returning to life in Dale was not as easy as Bard had thought it would be.

Though difficult, he'd explained Tauriel's absence as best he could without giving away personal details. But living without her at home was harder than living without her on the road had been. He missed seeing her at the dining table, in the watchtowers, in the Great Hall.

He wanted her in his bed.

That he missed her so and wanted her more fed not only his depression but his anger at her for leaving in the first place. He wondered more than once if Erron was right, that she would be compelled to return to him because she could not forever ignore the bond they shared. He wondered how he would react if she did come back. A time or two, he even wondered if he really wanted her back, but each time quickly dismissed the thought as foolish.

Of course he wanted her back. That was the whole bloody problem—wanting her more than he was angry at her.

It helped, to an extent, that there was still so much to do. Though his people and the dwarves had been busy in his absence and the city wall had been repaired, the people still had much work ahead in making the city livable. Homes and businesses throughout the city were still in need of repairs (repairs to the second story of the manor had been completed, but he and the children had thus far chosen to remain on the ground floor). Those who wished to set up businesses concentrated on clearing the shops they had claimed and setting them up for operation with the equipment procured from the elves, and in Rohan, Gondor, and Dorwinion. Mid-summer planting followed a harvest of the early fruits and vegetables sown before their departure. There wasn't much, but it was enough to give them hope for better harvests in years to come.

One of the ladies who had come up from Dorwinion was a teacher, and asked about setting up a school. Bard helped her locate books and documents in the archives, and sent a letter to Dáin asking whether he might have some with which she could teach the children about his people. He sent a similar letter to Thranduil asking the same—for Bard knew that having the children of his city taught about his neighbors with texts from the source would go a long way toward furthering peaceful relations.

Dorna moved into the manor as an assistant to Halia. She had insisted on the road that she felt safest when Bard was near, which he supposed he could understand given he had saved her from an attempted rape. It was one reason he'd sought a room for her in Erron's house during their stay in Dorwinion and why he had said yes when she suggested Halia might need the help, now that she had three small children to look after. Of course, Erina, being twelve years by the time they returned, was also enlisted to help with the washing, cooking, cleaning, and caring for Beryl. She spent her free time with Tilda, with whom she had bonded on their journey, and it was Dorna's idea that she would become his youngest daughter's lady-in-waiting once she was titled a princess.

It was a week after their return that something most unexpected happened. A company of elves, led by Alaren, escorted a small group of men, women, and children into Dale late one afternoon. Bard met them in the market after a runner had fetched him from the Great Hall, and was stunned to find Peder at the fore.

"Peder!" cried Peri, who had accompanied him. She rushed forward and embraced her old friend, concern in her expression as she looked him over, her gaze then roaming over the people behind him.

There were but thirty.

"What happened? What are you doing here?" Peri asked.

Peder's eyes were haunted as he recounted that Halken was attacked again three weeks after the company's departure. The number of goblins was greater than last time, and they'd brought some of their orc friends along for this go round. All had fought bravely but there had been too many, and it was only the unexpected intervention of a giant bear that turned out to be the skin-changer Beorn—as well as a raggedy old man called Radagast who claimed to be a wizard—that had saved what few of them were left. After the enemy was routed and the dead were buried, Beorn and Radagast had taken them across the river, where the latter led them through Mirkwood to seek temporary refuge in the Elvenking's halls.

"There we were given rest and aid, and generously bid to stay as long as needed," Peder finished.

"My Lord Thranduil had intended us to escort these people here to Dale next week," added Alaren, "but the arrival of your letter, Lord Bard, alerted His Majesty that you had returned, and delivering his response seemed as good a time as any to bring them to you." She then handed over a rolled-up piece of parchment sealed with wax, and indicated the wagon which had been brought with them.

"You are of course most welcome to stay on here, Peder," Bard began, "but curiosity bids me to ask: why did you not go to your kin in the west?"

"We thought of that, to be sure, but it was deemed too dangerous to trek across the mountains. Goblin and orc activity has apparently increased of late, and I was not of a mind to endanger what few of my people are left to me," Peder replied.

"Of course you would not, dear Peder," Peri said. "It saddens me greatly that you were forced to bid our home goodbye in so harsh a manner, but I pray you will find solace here in Dale. I've traveled with Bard and his company many days, and they are good people."

Peder regarded her a moment, then looked to Bard and nodded. "I know," he said simply.

As she and several others led the Halken refugees further into the city to find homes for themselves, Alaren took Bard by the arm and drew him aside.

"Where is Tauriel?" she asked. "You made no mention of her in your letter and my Lord Thranduil bid me ask of her."

He felt a scowl descend over his features, though like his own people, he'd known her kin would eventually question her whereabouts. "Tauriel left the company in Lothlórien. I know not where she is."

The elf's eyebrows rose. "You who I know by the tonal quality of your voice are wed to her—for surely you would take no other elf for your bride—have no idea where she has gone?"

"Nor do I know if she ever plans to return," he added.

Alaren frowned. "This is troubling news—Thranduil will not be pleased. Why did she leave? Surely you did not cast her out."

Bard's expression had darkened from merely angry to frightening, he knew, by the slight widening of Alaren's eyes. "No, Captain, I most certainly did not. As you are like to be reporting every word I say to your king, let me make sure you get the story straight— _she_ left _me_ , little more than twelve hours after she bound me to her for the rest of my bloody life. I've now got this incessant buzzing sitting just to the back of my conscious mind that I cannot silence, reminding me of the fact that I was a fool to fall in love with an elf who—"

With a soft growl, he cut himself off. Bard took a moment to calm his frayed nerves, wondering why he suddenly found himself unwilling to tell Alaren why Tauriel had gone. He'd told Erron. Galadriel and Celeborn knew all about it, as well. Why was it so important to keep the truth to himself? Who was he really protecting by remaining silent—himself or Tauriel?

" _Hîr nín_?"

He turned back to Alaren at her softly spoken query, and found himself compelled to ask, "Do all mated elves fade when one of the pair dies?"

"No, not all," Alaren replied slowly. "My Lord Thranduil lost his wife to battle, yet he remained. Whispers say it is because of his son he did not follow her to the Halls of Mandos, though on the surface their relationship is anything but close. Perhaps he stayed also for his people, who without him would have been leaderless, for Legolas was nowhere near ready to be king—or so it was said."

"He stayed, yes, but Thranduil was not the same ever after, was he?"

A sad look crossed her features. "That is also said, yes. Before the passing of Queen Mírya, Thranduil was apparently more…approachable. He smiled more. He laughed more. Without her…" She shrugged. "He closed himself off from everyone. Even Legolas, as some have said. He became temperamental, and far more an isolationist than he'd ever been."

Alaren tilted her head to one side as she regarded him. "You think Tauriel fears she will fade when you die, almost as though she were mortal herself."

Bard felt his shoulders slump. "I know she fears it," he confessed with a sigh. "Something in Lórien showed her the future, and she saw me die. It frightened her so terribly—or so I'm told—that she ran rather than accept the inevitable."

"Perhaps she ran because she knew she could not bear to watch your suffering," Alaren suggested.

"Whether or not I suffer in death is not the point, Captain."

"And what do you think is the point?"

"Tauriel knew from the moment she met me that I would die someday. If she were not capable of accepting that, why did she bind herself to me? Why would she allow herself to fall in love with someone she knew very well would not live near as long as she?" he said.

" _Hîr nín_ , we do not always choose the ones we love," Alaren said with a sad smile.

Bard echoed her expression. "Can't choose to stop loving them, either."


	49. Chapter 49

**Thank you Eryn, Guest, Theresa, and IsabelleBrown for the reviews.**

 **Eryn - I'm glad my decision to add some closure to the other side of the love triangle has been well received. That and adding a little more depth to Tauriel and Legolas' relationship. In my mind, they've been friends from the very beginning, and though the thought of Legolas having feelings for her was hardly believable to Tauriel (in the movie she smiled a little, which to me was a "That can't be true, I don't believe it" kind of smile...at least in my world it was, lol), I do think she would be very flattered that the man she's only ever thought of as a friend and brother would want to marry her. And it shows his true character that Tauriel's lineage matters absolutely zilch to Legolas - he loved her for who she was, not who she came from.**

 **Guest - I'm afraid Tauriel and Bard's reunion is several chapters away still. But fret not, I do have plans for some chapters after the baby is born.**

 **Theresa - I coulda left Halken alone, but... no. (insert evil grin) Glad you like the mentioned-only cameo of Radagast. He and Beorn live on the east bank of the Anduin near where I imagined Savis and Halken to be, so it seemed fitting to have the two of them pop up somewhere in this story.**

 **IsabelleBrown - No one is more disappointed in Tauriel than she is herself. She's really starting to feel a lot of guilt for just taking off like she did, and will feel it for sometime after she finally gets back to Dale.**

 **And thanks also to those reading and following in the background.**

* * *

"I want to go with you."

Elladan and Elrohir turned their heads in unison as Tauriel spoke. Ranárë, who sat between them, looked up with a soft smile, her expression seeming to indicate she had been expecting this day to come.

"My Lady," said Elladan (she'd learned to tell them apart by the fact that each had a single braid at his temple, on the opposite side of his head than his brother's). "This errand will take us into Dunland."

"The Dunlendings are dangerous folk who are not to be trifled with," added Elrohir.

Tauriel smiled. "You know already that I am quite handy with a bow and knives, my lords."

"Aye, but you are with child," Elladan pointed out. "Think of the life that you carry, _redhwin_."

A smile flickered faintly on her lips. With Maglor having spent a week in their home, they'd of course been told of her relation to him, and thus to them. To her surprise, Elladan and Elrohir had taken the news in stride and welcomed her warmly into their family—they confessed they had felt the bond of kinship when first they'd met, but admitted they'd been just as confused as she, and more concerned with the state of her health. It was but minutes after learning of their kinship that Elladan had started addressing her by the Sindarin word for a female cousin, and naturally Elrohir had picked it up as well. Here and there, she would address them by the male equivalent, _redhweg_.

"She is thinking of her child," Ranárë spoke up before she could reply. "Is that not so, _Aranel_?"

With a nod, Tauriel sat at the table in Elrond's library, where just weeks ago she'd learned a startling truth about her lineage. The twins and Ranárë were there planning a long expedition through Hollin and Dunland for the purpose of recruiting more men and women for the Rangers. Though the Rangers of the North were mostly of Dúnedain blood, it had proven necessary in recent years to recruit from the villages of "lesser" mortals.

Elrond had mentioned his sons' plan to her almost as an aside after their long discussion, but Tauriel had known his true purpose. Though expected to take several weeks, they would trek south toward the Gap of Rohan, stopping in many villages along the way for their recruiting mission. They would then cross through the Gap and then head north toward Lothlórien, where they would visit with their sister and grandparents before returning home.

"It is time I owned up to my mistakes and faced the consequences of my actions," Tauriel said. "Though he may yet reject me for my leaving him, I owe it to my husband to tell him of our child. I will not further entrench myself in cowardice by doing so in a letter—I will face him even if ultimately I am turned away."

The twins looked at each other. They looked at Ranárë, who merely smiled, then Elrohir said, "Travel through Dunland will be dangerous, _redhwin_. It will be near two months before we even reach Lórien."

"My traveling with you through Dunland is no more dangerous than trekking through the mountains alone—in fact, it ought be less so given the three of you will be with me."

"And you are sure you do not wish to take a more direct route? We could certainly delay the recruiting mission to escort you through the mountains," suggested Elladan.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow. "Were you not just saying that orc activity in the mountains has increased of late, thus begetting the need for more Rangers? Is that not why you have planned a more circuitous route to Lothlórien?" She asked the question even though she knew the reason was the recruiting effort; she knew also that despite the risk of doing so, they would cross through the mountains on their trip back to save time.

She smiled then. "Besides, it has taken me this long to come to my senses. I hardly think a couple more months will do much more damage than has already been done."

The twins looked to one another, then sighed in unison. "Very well, my Lady," Elladan told her. "You are most welcome to join us."

* * *

Tauriel was not the only one to be joining the excursion. On the day of departure two days hence, they were all of them surprised when Laivindil approached them as they were readying their horses. She was dressed for travel and carried with her a full rucksack and a bedroll.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tauriel asked her, gesturing to the items she carried.

Laivindil smiled. "Yesterday I received a letter from my parents. They told me that Lady Galadriel has foreseen that you will have need of me, and so I am to serve you as long as I am required, my Lady."

Fighting a frown, Tauriel said, "I am sure you have a choice in the matter, Laivindil. No matter what was or was not foreseen, I would not have you if not of your own free will."

The Dúnadan smiled again. "I have great trust in the wisdom of the Lady of the Golden Wood," she said. "If she bids me serve you, I will honor her request—though rest assured, my Lady, if it were one not to my liking, I would have no qualms refusing."

 _I'm glad you trust her_ , _considering it's partly her fault I'm even in this mess_ , Tauriel thought sourly. Then it occurred to her that perhaps Galadriel was feeling some measure of guilt over encouraging her to look into the mirror in the first place, and foresight or no, Laivindil being asked to serve her was an attempt at making up for it. It was oddly comforting, the notion that so revered an _elleth_ might actually feel guilty about something.

There was also the probability that Galadriel had recognized her as kin, and felt some familial desire to see that she was looked after.

And so another horse was prepared, and the party grew from six to seven; Bronwë and another Ranger were joining them for safety's sake. Nine, actually, if one counted Rámor and Pére, the panther and falcon who were companions of Ranárë's.

Elrond came to see them off and bid his sons a hearty farewell. He spoke with tenderness to Laivindil about what a joy it had been to be her teacher. To Ranárë he spoke in Quenya and it seemed he afforded her a great deal of respect, tinged with affection of an almost fatherly sort. The two Rangers he was friendly with, and then he came at last to Tauriel.

"Thank you once again, my Lord, for taking such good care of me," she told him. "For allowing me respite in your halls, and for listening with an unbiased ear when at last I unburdened myself to you."

Elrond smiled as he took her hands in his. "You are most welcome, Tauriel. Perhaps one day you will come here again—though as a guest, not as a patient."

He leaned closer. "And I hope I have not added to your burdens by facilitating the meeting which revealed your true heritage to you. I intended only to seek the truth, not cause you further heartache."

Tauriel shook her head, then offered him a smile. "It was a shock to be sure, my Lord, but… I am not upset by it. Rather I take comfort in knowing I have family, after all these years of being alone in this world."

"Remember also that should your husband forsake you, and Thranduil's halls no longer appeal to you, you and your child will be welcome here."

Emotion swelled in her chest and tears sprang to her eyes, but Tauriel held them in check. "Thank you for that most generous offer, my Lord. Let us both pray I shall not need to take you up on it."

She then mounted the horse beside her, and as she did so her thoughts turned to Legolas. They had said their goodbyes the night before, when she had asked him to stay away from the south gate for fear of losing her resolve to go. Understanding that she needed to do this no matter the outcome, he had agreed. She knew he planned to take Estel to the archery field to work on his bowmanship, and even though he was absent at her request, she missed seeing him already. There was no telling when they might see one another again.

It would quite possibly be years.

As the group departed Imladris at last, Tauriel's thoughts turned to the conversation she'd had with Elrond two nights before. After she had tearfully confessed her sins, he had regarded her silently for a long moment before he spoke.

" _Yours is not the choice of my children—you are not required to relinquish your immortality due to choosing a mortal for your mate. That is a path to which only my bloodline is bound_."

" _I would not be giving up my life by choice_ ," she had replied. " _I just know that if I am forced to witness as Bard suffers the ravages of time, and then to be the last thing he sees before death takes him, I will not survive it. Not even our child will be enough to stop me Fading_."

She had then cursed herself for being weak, and had wondered if the line of Fëanor was fated to suffer for all eternity—though she deemed it monumentally unfair that she should be subject to the punishment of his sons just because she shared their blood.

Elrond had then smiled gently and said, " _My dear, I do not believe it is weakness which would take you from this world. From what you have said of him, I believe it more likely that you love Bard so deeply you simply cannot bear to live in a world where he does not exist_."

" _Then what do I do? I know I must go to him and tell him of our child, but even if he welcomes me I do not know if I will be able to stay_."

His next question surprised her. " _Do you know why it is that my children must one day decide to be of Men or of Elves?_ " At the shake of her head, he had said, " _Then I shall explain, though in so doing, I will have to recount the stories of my ancestors, some of whom were mortal…_ "

Those stories had made her more determined than ever to return to Bard. Hearing of the great love between mortals and elves of the past had lifted her spirits and given her the greatest hope.

All she needed was for Bard to be willing to forgive her.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _redhwin_ \- female cousin

 _redhweg_ \- male cousin


	50. Chapter 50

**Well, here we are at the big five-oh. I want to say thank you to every person reading this story who has been with me (and Tauriel and Bard!) all this time, and a special shout-out goes to those of you who plan to stick around to the end. That tells me you recognize what I'm trying to do with these characters—which is to present them in a realistic fashion and make them as emotional, flawed, complicated, and fallible as any other person, be they mortal or immortal.**

* * *

"Here you are, my Lord. Hot and straight, just as you like it."

Bard absently nodded as Dorna set the tray containing a pot of coffee and a mug on the corner of the desk. He was looking over some papers a messenger had brought from Esgaroth and was rather engrossed in the letters. Things were going well there, which pleased him—all the folk from Dorwinion and Gondor who'd decided to make their homes there were getting on well with the people from the old Lake-town. The same was true of all who'd moved on to Dale with him, and Peder's group from Halken were settling in as well.

The only thing that disturbed him was the report of an illness that had broken out. Several people had been bed-ridden by a fever combined with chills. Some of those had complained of sore, swollen throats. Hopefully the medicines they'd acquired on the journey would alleviate the people's discomfort and cure the illness before it spread through the whole town.

"Bard?"

His name and the feeling of a hand on his shoulder startled him. Bard looked up to find Dorna standing at his side, a questioning expression and a soft smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, was there something else?"

Her smile grew. "I only asked if there was anything else you needed. Those letters must be quite engaging for you not to have heard me."

More like he had ignored her, he thought. Ever since Thengel had made that remark about her being willing to accept him, Bard had been keeping an eye on Dorna. While she had not once behaved in an unladylike manner, nor made any advances toward him, she had been especially attentive to everything he said and did—this had become more evident after the Easterling incident in the Brown Lands. He thought it hero worship and nothing more, yet even though he'd brought her into his house to work, he kept his distance from her.

This often resulted in his tuning her out or simply ignoring her once her tasks were done. He knew it was rude and perhaps ungentlemanly to dismiss her so, but he had no desire to encourage any affection she might have for him.

Thus, he pointedly looked to where her hand rested on his shoulder. Dorna quickly drew it away and clasped her hands behind her back, waiting expectantly.

"No," Bard said. "I don't need anything else at the moment."

"Okay. Well, do call for me if you need anything," she said, then made a short curtsy and left the room he'd turned into his study at the manor.

Bard shook his head, in the back of his mind wondering if he shouldn't move his office to the Great Hall.

* * *

In the next couple of weeks, the little bit of happiness Bard felt at how well things were going in both cities turned sour. The illness that had hit Esgaroth had indeed spread—and not just through that city. Somehow it had made its way to Dale, and there were now nearly a dozen in Dale who had succumbed to it. The virus had also mutated, causing a red, bumpy rash to break out all over the inflicted. White and yellow patches were appearing in the swollen throats of the sick, their tongues appearing white with spots of red. The fever and chills were now often accompanied by vomiting, and all anyone who was ill could seem to hold down was bread and water…if they could even do that.

The first of Percy's people to fall sick had died two weeks after the breakout. He was followed by the second and third of the ill within days.

When the residents of Dale began to show symptoms, Bard and Percy began exchanging messages by ravens on loan from Dáin rather than risk spreading the illness more by having a person travel between the cities. Both were put under quarantine as soon as the first cases were reported in Dale, and the hope was that it would not spread to the mountain.

They hoped in vain, as Ori the scribe was the first to fall ill. The most recent letter from Erebor said that six dwarves had been isolated in the infirmary. Bard had written suggesting they seek aid from the elves, for he was certain Thranduil or one of his healers would know what to do, but Dáin outright refused.

" _I'll not trust my life or that of my kin to that pointy-eared bastard_ ," the King under the Mountain had written. " _I'll meet Mahal in his Great Forge before I seek help from an elf, especially_ that _elf!_ "

So much for the peace they'd achieved after the battle, Bard had thought sourly. But just because the dwarf was unwilling to ask for his people's sake, didn't mean that he could not. He was just dipping a quill into his inkpot to draft a letter to Thranduil when Tilda barged into his study, tears streaming down her face.

Bard stood immediately. "My dear child, whatever is the matter?" he said as he moved toward her.

"It…it's Sigrid, Da," Tilda managed. "She…she's got the flush."

Alarm shot through him and he ran toward his eldest daughter's room, followed by Tilda. He found both Bain and Téomas there, helping her into bed. The young horsemaster pulled a blanket over the shivering girl as Bard stepped in front of his son and knelt at her bedside.

"My poor girl," he said softly, brushing her hair back with a tender touch. The heat of her fever concerned him. "How are you feeling?"

Sigrid and Tilda both had been traveling from home to home with Hilda helping to care for the sick, as the two girls had been the most interested in learning healing from Tauriel. They'd used up nearly their entire stock of kingsfoil, which had done little good to stop the spread of the illness they had all begun to refer to as the crimson flush. Because his daughters had been tending to the ill, Halia had temporarily moved out of the manor in the hope of sparing her foster children.

"I-I'm so…cold," Sigrid replied through chattering teeth. "I d-don't understand. I felt…fine this morn…ing. Well, I did…have a bit of…a headache. And my stomach…was sour. But I thought…nothing of it. Thought it was…worry over the others."

Bard smiled. "You are a good girl to think of everyone else, but now it is time to think of yourself. Rest now, Sigrid. I'll have Tilda bring you some water later."

Sigrid nodded, closing her eyes as she bunched the blanket around her. Bard leaned forward and kissed her brow, wincing fearfully at how hot her skin was to his lips. He then stood and gestured for the others to follow him out. They had reached the foyer before he turned to them and said, "Téomas, I should like you to remain here—that should not be too much trouble for you as I'm certain you'd only worry for Sigrid's health anyway. But you've been exposed now and I would not have you carry the flush back to your mother and brother. Bain can show you to a room where you may sleep."

Téomas nodded, then said, "Is there any way I might inform my mum I am to stay here?"

"I'll send her a letter by raven," Bard said, "so she'll not worry."

The boy nodded again and turned away as Bain said, "Come on, mate. The room next to mine is still empty, though it may be a bit dusty unless Dorna's been in there of late to clean it."

Bard watched them go, then turned to Tilda. "You must stay in the manor now, dearest. We can no longer risk spreading the flush further with you walking about the city. Take good care of your sister, and please, Tilda, inform me the moment you're feeling the least bit poorly."

Tilda nodded. "Yes, Da. I understand the manor's under quarantine as well now, but what should we do if someone comes to the door?"

Bard thought for a moment, then said, "I'll write up a notice and nail it to the door, but if it should be ignored, wear a kerchief over your face when you answer, and do your best not to touch anyone directly. Make sure you tell your brother and Téomas that as well."

She nodded again and turned toward the hall that led to the kitchen. She turned back as if in afterthought, a frown on her face. "What about Dorna, Da? She's been in her room since after breakfast so far as I know, but I don't think she's sick. Should I check on her?"

"Please do, for I must go and write that notice and a few letters. Give her the same instructions as you're to give your brother, though tell her also to stay away from Sigrid's room for now. If she's not ill, have her bring a pitcher of water to me in my study."

"Yes, Da," Tilda said again, and hurried off to do as she'd been told.

Returning to his study, Bard sat at his desk and picked up his quill again. He first drafted a short and succinct notice stating that the manor was now under quarantine, and only the most urgent of business should be considered an exception. Setting that aside so the ink would dry, he wrote a quick letter to Breha and another to Hilda, explaining why Tilda would not be joining her for her rounds that afternoon.

After sending the letters off with the two ravens that were at his service, he hunted for a hammer and a nail to tack the notice to the manor door. As Magnus had stationed himself outside, Bard dismissed him, saying he ought take a post where he could do more good. When he returned to his study, Dorna was just setting a pitcher and a glass on the desk.

"'Tis dreadful news that Sigrid's fallen ill, is it not, sire?"

He nodded as he sat in his chair and pulled another piece of parchment forward. "It is indeed. I think only a light soup for supper tonight—hopefully she will be able to have some."

"Yes, that should do her well," Dorna replied. "And hopefully no one else gets sick, least of all you. Everyone here depends on you so, my Lord. Have you any idea what to do about this awful flush?"

Bard looked up at her briefly. "I am going to write a letter to King Thranduil in Mirkwood. Perhaps his healers there will know of some way to fight this illness."

"Are you sure that's wise, sire? Would sending a messenger not endanger the elves as well?"

He recalled then something Tauriel had said back in Halken, and spoke the words aloud. "Elves are not so prone to infection as are Edain, Dorna. It is likely that exposure to the flush would do nothing to their kind, but for safety's sake I shall send the message by raven. It is good of you to be concerned."

Bard turned his attention to the blank parchment before him, wondering how best to word his missive to the Elvenking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dorna curtsy and turn to leave. Dismissing her from his thoughts, he picked up his quill once more and began to write.

* * *

Dorna shook her head as she quietly closed the door to Bard's study. She didn't really care two bits whether or not the elves could get sick, though if Tauriel were still around, she'd certainly have hoped they could.

But the elf was not, she mused with a smile. She was. And though Bard was distant most of the time, she knew that as long as she remained patient, as long as she pretended concern for others and was attentive to his needs, he'd get over the redhead with the huge ears and look to another for comfort.

She intended to be the one he took that comfort with.


	51. Chapter 51

**Thanks ever so much to readergirl4985, Lordienne, and Lisa Halette for the reviews of chapter 50. Thanks also to those of you who read along in the background.**

 **Bronwë once again appears with the permission of Daniella Blue. She knew before she passed that her character would appear again as a companion to Tauriel on her journey home.**

* * *

Dunland had been…interesting, to say the least.

At first, Tauriel had wondered what Elladan and Elrohir hoped to accomplish there, if the people were as dangerous as they'd described. When she'd posed the question on the first day, Elladan had explained that though most Dunlendings were wild and fierce, there were those that were of a calmer disposition than their kin and more like the Dúnedain in their manner. Those were the ones they were hoping to recruit, as with the increase in numbers among orcs, goblins, and wargs, the number of attacks against decent folk had grown as well.

The Rangers needed greater numbers to combat the ongoing threat.

Most of the people they had encountered as they rode through the country were decidedly of the unfriendly variety. They had been treated with cold shoulders and open hostility by most, and had been attacked without provocation more than once. Bronwë had, Tauriel soon learned, been designated her bodyguard—at first, the Dúnadan had tried to prevent her fighting altogether, and when that had proven a worthless effort, had made sure to stay at her side every moment.

After the second skirmish, rather than create a scene by railing at the twins or Ranárë for believing she needed protection, she had drawn Bronwë aside when they stopped to make camp that night and said she had one simple question for her.

"Why?"

Understanding dawned quickly, though Bronwë had briefly flicked her eyes in the direction of Elladan and Elrohir, where they sat on either side of Ranárë by the fire, before she responded.

"My Lady, please do not be angry," the Ranger said. "I am certain they do not think you incapable of protecting yourself, but you are with child and they are merely concerned for your welfare."

Tauriel had figured the two Rangers had been told of her condition, and she tried not to let the fact that her newfound cousins had arranged a bodyguard for her without consulting her first irritate her. She tried to take comfort in the fact that they cared enough to do so, but the warrior within her still railed against the idea that she needed looking after—just as Bard had when she'd spoken to him about Magnus.

She had never been careless in her life—reckless at times, perhaps, but never truly careless. Besides, she was well aware that she could not be so self-centered as to take chances with her life, because hers was not the only life at risk now. The precious gift growing inside her mattered to her more than anything, save perhaps Bard.

When she thought of him as the journey went on, wondering over and over again if he would turn her away, she knew that if he did—if he could not find it in his heart to forgive her—she would take no other to her own. She couldn't, for even if he no longer desired her, Bard would always have command of it. Her heart now truly belonged to him and him alone.

Throughout the whole of Hollin and Dunland, they found but ten who were willing to consider joining the Rangers. Those were given instruction to travel to a village outside of the abandoned city of Fornost, where they would meet with a Dúnedain commander that would put them through trials intended to determine whether they were truly fit to be peacekeepers of Arnor.

Their small company had passed through the Gap of Rohan and crossed the river Isen when they encountered another traveling band—merchants on their way to trade furs in Edoras. As the sun was quite low on the horizon, the two groups decided to camp together. The merchants, when asked by Laivindil, were more than happy to speak of their country. They gave glowing praise to Rohan's rich countryside and the people's reverence for horses.

"Speaking of horses," said Melvar, the second Ranger in their group, as he stood and looked somewhere beyond the fire.

All turned to see what he was talking about. In the distance there paced a black horse, head held high. The horse seemed to be watching them, but made no move to come nearer. Tauriel figured that was due to the presence of Rámor; the horse would know by his smell that the large feline was a predator.

Ranoden, the leader of the small band of merchants, snorted softly and turned back to the fire. "Give up any thought of that one, lad," he said. "That there's one of the Mearas—greatest of the breeds in these lands, they are, but nigh impossible to tame. 'Tis said their ancestors were brought here by Béma himself—"

"Béma?" queried Laivindil.

"Oromë," Ranárë said. "Given your upbringing, you would know him better by that name. And he did bring horses from Valinor to Middle-earth. I know him well, and they are a favorite of his."

Those who did not know her well, including Tauriel, looked at her with surprise. "What?" she said. "I was brought to life in Valinor before the first rising of the Sun. I know many Valar—do not make more of that than there is, please. I dislike being heralded as something greater than I am."

"But…but you _are_ a great being, my Lady," said Ranoden with awe in his voice.

"Please, dispense with the 'my Lady' thing, as well. I am just Ranárë."

Elladan and Elrohir looked to one another, then to Ranárë, and Tauriel suddenly got the feeling she was a great deal more to them.

Hoping to break the tension that had suddenly descended, she looked to Ranoden and asked, "Why do you say the Mearas are impossible to tame?"

Tearing his gaze away from the Maia, he grinned and said, "As our history tells it, the Mearas that roam here now are descended from Felaróf, first and greatest of the line. He was sought after by Léod, an ancestor of our king, but the white stallion did not wish to bear him and he was thrown. When Léod died of his injuries, his son Éorl sought the horse and demanded he serve him in repayment of his father's death. As Felaróf could understand the speech of Men, and was said to have seen that he owed Éorl a debt, he agreed. His offspring, and theirs through the centuries, have allowed none but the Lords of the Riddermark to ride upon them."

"That there horse has been roaming 'round like he was following us the last two days," said another of the Rohirrim. "It's almost as if he's looking for something. Or someone, maybe. Who can tell what a horse is thinking?"

Conversation turned to other topics, including the primary reason for their journey from Rivendell—to recruit for the Rangers. Ranoden and his companions compared the Rangers of the North to the Riders of Rohan, though the latter were more of a military unit than nominal peacekeepers. Tauriel tuned them out, her attention drawn back to the black horse, wondering who he was looking for.

* * *

 _The fog was thick, like a gray wall. One could not see more than a few feet in any direction. Everyone in the camp was asleep around the fire, save for Melvar, who was tending the horses. He did not see the black horse walk into the camp and over to Tauriel. Bending its head, the horse nudged her shoulder with its nose until she woke_.

Tauriel sat up with a soft gasp and looked around her. Melvar was coming back from where the horses stood nearby.

"Are you all right, my Lady?" he asked her.

"I'm fine, thank you. Think I'll get up and stretch my legs a bit," she said as she stood.

Melvar nodded. "Try not to take this the wrong way, but don't wander too far. We're in unfamiliar lands, after all, and the twins'll have my hide should anything happen to you on my watch."

"I make no promises," Tauriel replied with a grin, then turned and walked off a ways. She glanced up at the sky as she did so, noting that the stars were obscured by clouds. Fog would be rolling in soon, she mused, thick and heavy.

 _Like in the dream_.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she turned back toward camp. After but a few steps, she noted movement to her left, and with her hand on one of her knives, she turned slowly.

Plodding its way over to her was the black horse. Tauriel froze, slowly taking her hand from the knife so as not to appear threatening. The horse came to a stop an arm's length away, and so she slowly lifted one hand to reach out to it, tentatively touching the creature on the nose.

"Hello there," she said softly in Sindarin. "I thank you for coming to me, though I know not why."

The horse nudged her hand, and Tauriel stepped closer. She reached up to scratch the horse between the ears, which it seemed to like very much. As she let her nimble fingers dance between and around the horse's ears, she noted that its coat was of such a deep color that she was surprised she had seen it at all, and had likely done so only due to the light cast off from the nearby campfire.

"Your coat hides you well," she said, once again speaking in her native tongue. "In the deepest night I doubt even my kin would take notice of you."

Sighing as she let her hand fall to her side, she then raised her right arm and bowed her head in salute. "Thank you, Master Horse—"

The horse whinnied and shook its head. Tauriel looked up as it stamped its foot and shook its head again. A grin raised the corners of her lips as she realized what it—what she—was telling her.

"Forgive me, _Madam_ Horse," she said. "Farewell."

When she turned back to the camp and started toward it, she noted that Melvar was staring openly, as were Elladan, Elrohir, and Ranárë. Ranoden and two of the other four merchants stared as well, their jaws dropped in shock.

"Shouldn't you all be asleep?" Tauriel said as she started toward them. She was aware instantly that the mare was following her, and so she turned back.

"And shouldn't you be going off to the wilds somewhere?" she told it, then turned back to the others again.

The mare continued to follow her. Tauriel could almost feel the shock of her companions as she returned to where she had laid her bedroll, the black Meara close behind.

"Unbelievable," Ranoden said, his stunned gaze moving from the horse to her. "He must've been waiting for you, but… I don't get it. No Meara has ever born anyone but the line of the king."

"He is a she, Master Ranoden, and I have no intention of trying to ride her. Nor do I claim ownership of her—she is a free creature," Tauriel said as she sat again.

"The Meara has chosen you, _Aranel_ ," said Ranárë. "Clearly that is a rare gift."

"I do not know why, I am no one special."

"You are a Princess of the Ñoldor, a kinswoman of the Lady of the Golden Wood," said Elrohir. "If the Meara is as intelligent as legend says her kind are, she has sensed something in you."

"Perhaps she considers you a kindred spirit," suggested Elladan.

"Maybe," Tauriel said, though she could not fathom as to how the horse would know anything of the kind.

Since there were still a few hours before dawn, she laid back down to rest, ever mindful of the black horse standing over her as though a guardian. _As if I need another_ , Tauriel thought with some amusement, before drifting off to sleep once more.

When she awoke a few hours later, the sun was just beginning to light the sky. She turned her head to look over her shoulder and noted that the black horse was still there, seemingly uncaring that a lethal, over-large cat lay nearby. Shaking her head as she got to her feet, she fetched the mare a handful of oats from the bag of the horse she'd been riding. Cautiously she held the handful out to the Meara, which in turn happily nibbled up every flake from her palm.

"I'm afraid we weren't expecting you, or I'd give you more," she said.

Ranoden stepped up beside her. The horse nickered and sidestepped away. He laughed lightly as he looked to Tauriel and said, "Looks as though she does not like me. But she likes you well enough, Madam Elf."

Tauriel shrugged. "I don't know why."

"Perhaps it is as your friend said, and she considers you a kindred spirit," he suggested. "Sometimes, the horse chooses the rider."

He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Whether you claim her as your own or not, you might consider thinking of a name for her. Best we all call her something other than 'the horse', I should think, and I would say the honor of choosing a name is yours."

She considered his words as he left her alone with the mare, that the horse might sense in her something kindred. What it could possibly be was beyond the elf, but if she had been in the area for two days awaiting her arrival, she had possibly come quite far.

With sudden clarity, a name came to her. "Thêllenn," she murmured softly, a name the Meara seemed to like very much. _My journey sister_ , she thought, as they had both traveled a great distance, and had a great deal more yet to go.


	52. Chapter 52

**Thanks ever so much to chapter 51's reviewers, twilightmemoirs and Sparky She-Demon. And many thanks also to my silent readers.**

 **In this chapter, we deviate ever-so-slightly from the norm and someone else gets the run of the chapter...and no, it's not that witch Dorna. Though unfortunately she does make an appearance. Consolation is the cameo by another canon character. I think you will likey!**

* * *

Sigrid had fallen ill three days ago, and everyone in the manor was suffering the first signs of cabin fever. Tempers had already flared with so little to do besides pace the halls or the courtyard.

Bain slammed the cover of the book he'd been trying to read shut. It was pointless—he couldn't concentrate on the story.

Looking around his bedroom, his eyes fell on the sword that Dáin had given him. He'd not had many opportunities to use it, which he knew he should be grateful for, but found he was not. His father was going to be a king in the near future—which meant that one day, the title would pass to him. What kind of king would _he_ make if he had never proven to his people he could defend them as well as his father?

He needed practice, at the very least. Bain decided he would coax Téomas out of Sigrid's room for a sparring session in the courtyard. Rising from the bed, he grabbed his sword belt and strapped it to his waist, then headed for Sigrid's bedchamber—where his sister's suitor was, as he'd suspected, sitting by her bedside. Tilda was perched in a chair on the other side of the bed, listening to the Rohirrim boy reading from a book of poetry. Sigrid looked to be sleeping, no doubt soothed by the steady thrum of his voice.

"Téomas, give that book over to Tilda," Bain said as he stepped into the room. "Come out to the courtyard and spar with me."

Téomas looked briefly over his shoulder. "I don't think so, Bain."

He stepped up to the other boy and put a hand on his shoulder. "Mate, you've been cooped up in this house for three days, and spent all of your time in here. If Sigrid were awake, I've no doubt she'd tell you to go out and get some fresh air."

"Bain's right, Téomas," Tilda agreed, holding her hand out for the book. "Go burn off some of that nervous energy—at least the two of you have an option other than running in circles."

He relented with a nod following a long look at Sigrid's flushed, sleeping face. Handing the book across the bed, Téomas rose and followed Bain out of the room.

"Go get your sword. I'm going to see if my da wants to join us," Bain told him, and they went their separate directions.

As his friend had spent every moment not sleeping or eating in Sigrid's room, his father had spent all of his time holed up in his study, sending ravens back and forth between Erebor and Esgaroth, and around the city as well. Bain knew, though his father hadn't wanted to tell him, that five people had died in Esgaroth since the flush broke out, and he knew that one had died in Dale just yesterday. None of the dwarves had passed away, but several more had fallen ill since his father had imposed quarantine on the house.

 _Da needs to get out just as much as the rest of us_ , the boy thought as he knocked on the study door.

"Come…in."

A frown marred Bain's brow at the sound of his father's voice—he did not sound well. When he turned the knob and pushed the door open, he saw that his father was seated at his desk with his head resting in his hands.

His frown deepened. "Da? Are you all right?"

When the older man sat back, Bain knew instantly that his father was not all right at all.

He had caught the flush.

He rushed over to his father's side as he attempted to stand, the heat of his skin already worrying him. "I'm fine, son. Really," he said weakly as Bain lifted his father's arm and placed it across his shoulders, his own arm securely around his waist.

"I just…need to rest," his father said.

"And you will—you're going to get plenty over the next several days."

Bain helped his father stumble weakly through the manor to his bedchamber. After settling him in bed, he hurried to Sigrid's room to tell Tilda. His chest tightened to see her eyes fill with tears, but pride rose quickly behind it as she gave but one sniffle and raised her chin.

"I'm going to look in on him. Find Dorna and have her bring me a pitcher of water there," she said, before setting the book of poetry on her chair and heading out.

He found Dorna in the kitchen chopping vegetables. She dropped the knife and began to cry when he informed her that his father had taken ill.

"I know we asked you to keep away from Sigrid's room to avoid getting sick yourself, but Tilda can't care for them both. Not on her own," Bain said. "I hate to ask it of you, but—"

"Oh, think nothing of it, Master Bain! Of course I will help her by looking after your father," she said, looking demurely toward the floor. "I… I'm quite fond of Bard. I'll do whatever I can for him."

"Good. Fill a pitcher with cool water and get some clean cloths, and take them to Tilda in Da's room. He's got quite the fever."

"Of course!" Dorna cried softly, then hurried to do as he asked.

With his father's care seen to, he headed for the courtyard. Téomas looked to him as he stopped in the doorway. "Will your da not join us?"

"My father's got the flush, Téomas," Bain said. "Our sparring session will have to wait—I need you to come inside and look after everyone while I go for help."

He turned immediately to head back inside. Téomas was on his heels, saying, "Where are you going to go? The city is under quarantine—the guards may not even let you through the gate."

"I'm going to the elves," Bain replied as he headed for the kitchen. There he grabbed a waterskin and began to fill it in the sink. "I know Da said he'd not heard back from Thranduil, but what choice do I have? I can't go to Esgaroth or Erebor, because people are sick there as well, and what medicine they've got has done them no good."

He turned sharply once the skin was full and secured it to his belt as he headed for the front of the house. Tilda came out from the hall to the bedrooms as the two boys stepped into the foyer.

"Bain, what do you think you're doing?" she asked, her hands fisted on her hips.

"Tilda, I'm going to the elves," he said as he reached for the door to go out. "I know I'm breaking the quarantine, but I don't have any choice. I will _not_ lose my family to this nightmare, not after all we've been through together."

She ran to him then and threw her arms around his waist. "Good luck, brother," she whispered fiercely against his chest.

"Good luck, and may Béma grant swiftness to your steed, my friend," added Téomas.

Bain nodded, and after giving Tilda a quick squeeze, he opened the door and walked out.

The bright, late summer sunlight had him blinking to adjust. Once he could properly see, he hurried toward the stables, where he found Breha and Bréden tending to the horses.

"Master Bain! What are you doing here—is Téomas all right?" Breha asked.

"I thought the manor was under quarantine?" added Bréden.

"Téomas is fine," Bain said, then hurriedly explained as he saddled Huron about his father and his intention to ride to Mirkwood to seek aid from the elves.

"Oh, good luck to you, my Lord!" Breha cried as he climbed into the horse's saddle.

Bain gave a nod, then a kick to Huron's flank. The stallion surged forward and they galloped through the city, attracting startled gasps and stares as people jumped to get out of the way.

The closed gate drew him up short. Huron reared and neighed loudly, nearly throwing Bain from his seat. Thankfully, Magnus was one of the guards on duty—with the manor on lockdown the last few days, he knew his father had told him to find other work to occupy his time.

"Whoa, Master Bain!" Magnus said, stepping forward to grab the horse's bridle. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I must go to Mirkwood, to seek aid from King Thranduil," Bain said. "My da's got the bloody flush now—I've _got_ to do something!"

Magnus paled. "The king has the flush?"

Bain nodded. "Yes. So does Sigrid, and nearly two dozen others—all of whom are at risk of dying because nothing we have is doing a damn bit of good. I implore you, Sir Magnus, let me pass."

He knew that Magnus respected his father a great deal—after all, he'd just called him "king" and he had yet to be crowned. Hopefully that regard would work in his favor.

Magnus nodded solemnly and turned to the other guard on the ground, ordering him to open the gate. The guard didn't hesitate, either because he, too, held his father in high regard or because of his respect for Magnus, who was his commanding officer. Either way, relief flooded Bain as one of the 20-foot-tall doors was opened for him.

Giving a nod to Magnus, he said, "Reclose the gate behind me and do not open it again until I return."

Magnus bowed his head. "Yes, my Lord."

Nodding again, Bain kicked Huron's flank once more and the stallion started forward. At that same moment, a shout from the guard tower alerted them of the sight of a single dwarf riding a pony toward the city; Bain took note of him as he started across the bridge. The dwarf paused his mount at the end and waited for him, and as the boy drew nearer, he saw that it was Dáin's son and heir, who shared a name with his father's late cousin.

"Thorin Stonehelm, why do you ride toward a city under quarantine?" Bain asked as he drew Huron to a stop once more.

"Why do you ride away from it?" Thorin countered.

"Because I must," Bain replied. "I've got to get some help for my people and the elves are my last hope, even though Thranduil did not respond—"

"The imp did not receive your father's letter."

Bain narrowed his eyes. "How do know that?"

"Your father leased his messenger ravens from Erebor. Our ravens are taught to always heed their master's call," Thorin told him. "When one was sighted headed toward the forest, my father called it back himself."

Anger flooded Bain's blood, and he would have drawn his sword had he any belief he could best the dwarf. Only the knowledge that he would die in combat against the more skilled warrior, thereby forsaking the lives of his father and sister, stayed his hand.

However, it did not stop him cursing at Erebor's prince. "How _dare_ you?! What right did you have to interfere? People are _dying_ —my sister and now my father among them—and you stopped the message—"

"My father has fallen ill as well," Thorin interrupted him again, his expression a mix of worry and guilt. "I swear to you, Lord Bain, that I advised him to send the letter on—to swallow his bloody pride and choke on it if he must—and accept what may be the only hope left to our people, should the elves be able to provide it."

He sighed heavily. "It is why I am come to Dale, to seek assistance in petitioning the elves for aid."

Bain fumed angrily. "If your father had not allowed his prejudice to cloud his judgment, we might already have received that aid, and our fathers might not be sick right now. Remember that if our pleas fall upon deaf ears."

Without waiting for a reply, he kicked his heels back to get Huron moving again and headed toward the great forest across the valley, Thorin's pony plodding along steadily behind him.


	53. Chapter 53

Though they were polite enough not to stare openly, Tauriel could feel the eyes of Lothlórien's elves upon her as Elladan and Elrohir led the way into the Golden Wood.

 _Let them stare_ , she thought, and held her head high.

The panther and the falcon—Peré was perched on Ranárë's shoulder—were openly whispered about; there was wonder that the great feline walked so calmly among the horses. Thêllenn also received curious looks, the elves recognizing that the ebony mare who walked among them guided by her will alone was no ordinary horse. Tauriel had thus far refused the suggestions of her companions to bridle or saddle the Meara—she was still not entirely certain she had the right, or even why the horse had latched onto her. So she had left her unfettered, ensuring the animal understood she was free to come and go as she pleased.

So far, she had chosen to stay.

Elladan and Elrohir insisted Tauriel join them when they introduced Ranárë to their grandparents and sister. She hadn't wanted to, but knew it would be rude to refuse. After the group's horses had been stabled and Ranárë had directed her animal companions to remain with them, she reluctantly trailed behind the twins and the Maia, dropping even behind Bronwë and Melvar, with Laivindil walking beside her.

Galadriel and Celeborn's welcome of their grandsons was warm and elicited smiles and embraces from both. Ranárë they seemed to regard with a small amount of awe and a great deal of respect; given what she had revealed to Tauriel the night she'd been introduced to Maglor, it was no wonder that those who were considered the greatest of her kin would all but bow down to the Istari.

It was far better to think on that than the fact that the closer she got to Dale—though there were miles yet to go—she could feel her bond with Bard growing in strength. Knowing he was so close made her nervous about seeing him again after so many weeks away.

Thinking about Ranárë was also far more comfortable than having to recognize that she was kin to the woman who had brought her marriage to ruin in a matter of hours.

Just as she had that thought, Galadriel turned her gaze toward her and smiled. "Welcome back, _redhwin_."

Tauriel felt her spine stiffen involuntarily. _Of course she already knows_ , she thought sourly even as her voice replied politely, "Galadriel." _Probably read our minds from the moment we came near the first tree_.

 _No, Daughter of the Forest, I knew the moment I met you—as I also felt the bond of our kinship_ , Galadriel said in her mind.

Rage suddenly overcame Tauriel, and she pushed her way to the fore of the group. "Is that why you did it?" she demanded. "Is that why you encouraged me to look into that accursed mirror of yours—just so I'd find out Maglor is my grandfather and you my distant kin? You could have just told me!"

Her angry tirade elicited stunned gasps from all her companions—except for Ranárë, who merely raised an eyebrow—and a scowl from Celeborn. The elf-lord took a step toward her but stopped when his wife laid a placating hand on his arm.

"Had I simply revealed our kinship, you would not have believed me," Galadriel replied.

"You don't know that!" Tauriel cried as tears of anger and heartache stung her eyes. "I don't care what powers you possess, you don't know that! You don't know because you never bothered to try. I was _happy_ , damn it! I was in love and happy with the man who saved me from fading, and that stupid mirror ruined everything!"

A hand came to rest on her shoulder but she shrugged it off. "Maybe it was naïve of me to bond myself to Bard without considering what his death would do to me, but I was happy. I didn't need to know about Maglor, or the twins and Arwen, or you. I had a family in Bard and his children—a family that may now turn me away in anger for what I've done. And all because of that…that stupid…"

As suddenly as it had risen her ire deflated, and the emotional overload of the past four months came crashing down on her. Tauriel's breath hitched in her chest as she fought vainly against a great sob of pain and fell to her knees. Galadriel immediately knelt down and drew her against her chest. Tauriel wanted to fight her off but found she did not have the strength, and so she unabashedly wailed her grief against her shoulder.

"Leave us," Galadriel said, and her words were heeded by all—even Celeborn.

The two of them knelt in the middle of the flet's landing, Galadriel gently rubbing her back and rocking her, until Tauriel's sobs fell silent. "I am deeply sorry to have led you to such pain, _redhwin_ ," the elder _elleth_ said softly. "I had foreseen that you would look into the mirror, but I did not know what it would show you. And though I knew you as my kin from our first meeting, I knew you were not yet ready to hear of it. The time had not come for you to accept it."

"So I had to…to run away…for that time to come?" Tauriel asked, her words broken by hiccups still disturbing her breath.

Galadriel sat back from her. "I do not know—perhaps you had to run away to find out who you are, who you were meant to be. It is likely the same reason you left Mirkwood at your back, for I do not believe it was your destiny to always remain in the dark of the forest you were named for, but to see and know the world around it also."

When she looked up at her at last, Tauriel saw in her eyes a mixture of sadness and sympathy—and yes, a small measure of guilt as well. "You said our love would survive what was to come," she said. "If you did not know what the mirror would show me, how did you know I would run?"

"I did not quite know that, either. I knew only that you would look into the mirror, and that you would experience great pain. But I had also foreseen the two of you together, so I believed you would overcome whatever hurt befell you," Galadriel replied.

"Do you know if Bard is going to forgive me?"

"I believe he will, but there are trials yet you must both face before that time comes."

Tauriel scoffed as she wiped at her face. "Great, something to look forward to," she mused darkly.

With a huff, she pushed to her feet and straightened her clothes. Galaldriel stood as well, and it suddenly dawned on her that she was smiling. "Now what?" she snapped.

"You think you know how to save him," her companion observed.

Startled, Tauriel stepped back. Then she frowned. "I'd appreciate it very much if you stayed out of my head," she told her firmly. "I think you've meddled enough in my affairs, my Lady."

"My apologies," Galadriel said, inclining her head as she did so. "But the thought was quite strong, so much so that I could not help but…overhear it, so to speak."

"Will it work?" she asked bluntly.

Galadriel sighed softly. "I'm afraid I do not know the answer to that. The outcome of the trials ahead of you will determine both your fates."

She then tilted her head aside and said, "Tell me, _redhwin_ , from where did you get the idea—or rather, from whom?"

"From Lord Elrond. He told me of his ancestors and I… I just thought maybe I could do the same," Tauriel said.

"Was Bard planning to take the company to Rivendell?"

"No, or he'd have found me there and we'd be together now. Why do you ask?"

Galadriel's smile widened. "Then that is why. Why you looked into the mirror, why you fled in fear though you are deeply in love. It was not to learn of your lineage but to meet with my daughter's husband, that he might give you hope."

The realization that she was right was staggering, and Tauriel took another step back. Shock coursed through her, and she knew it was in her expression as she looked back at the other woman.

"You were but an instrument, as was the stupid mirror," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But why? Why would the Valar do this to me—why would they put me through such torment?"

Another smile, a softer one, graced Galadriel's lips as she said, "Without the darkness, dearest cousin, how would we recognize the light?"

Tauriel thought about that for a moment, then said, "The only light that I wish to see will be to have my love smile at me once more."

She turned away and started for the stairs but stopped when she realized she had no idea where her bed would be that night.

"Your friends are waiting for you at the base of the tree. They will show you where to go."

Without looking back, Tauriel acknowledged Galadriel's words with a nod. She took a step down but was stopped a second time when the elder _elleth_ spoke again.

"You are not the only one with regrets, Tauriel. Many times have I wished my foresight were not so limited, that it showed me all possible outcomes when I take steps to ensure certain visions come to pass."

"Do you ever stop to think about how your interference will affect the people you see in those visions?" Tauriel asked over her shoulder. "That instead of meddling in the affairs of others, you ought let those events you see play out as they will, whether they happen as you see them or the course changes as the people in them change? Have you never once stopped to consider that things might turn out differently if you left well enough alone?"

She turned around then. "And even if you feel compelled to get involved regardless, did you ever consider that even you are not bound by what you foresee? I would never have looked into that blasted mirror of yours had you not encouraged me to do so. I would never have run away from Bard. Instead of having me look into the mirror, you could have taken me into your confidence and explained that you believed us to be kin. You could have instead encouraged me to seek out Lord Elrond and ask his counsel on how I might survive the loss of my mate.

"But you did none of those things, and I cannot help but relate the pain I have since felt to you and that mirror. Also, at this moment I cannot imagine a day where I will be able to stand in your presence and not wish to be elsewhere."

With her feelings confessed Tauriel turned around once more and walked away.


	54. Chapter 54

Tauriel found herself restless in Lothlórien.

She knew part of the reason was the tension she felt anytime Galadriel was near. Try as she might, she could not shake her dislike of the _elleth_ , in spite of knowing her to be distant kin. Coming to terms and finding peace with the Lady of Light's part in what had driven her to run from Bard was going to take a lot longer than a few days.

Bard was another reason for her unrest. She continued to worry about how she would be received when she arrived in Dale. How he would react to the news of their child—who was already starting to show, her lower abdomen having become more rounded and pronounced as she was soon to enter her fifth month. Through the bond she could feel that he was worried about something, but she had no idea what concerned him. She'd made a few tentative attempts to contact him but had received no response.

She could not say for certain if it was because he could not hear her due to the distance still between them or if he was ignoring her.

As much as it hurt to think on it, if Bard was ignoring her, she knew she deserved it.

After seven days in the Golden Wood, Tauriel could stand it no longer and knew she had to move on, though the plan had been to stay another week. She packed up what few belongings she had and readied her horse. Thêllenn seemed to recognize that they were soon to depart, as the Meara pranced excitedly in her stall next to the gelding she had been riding as Tauriel was putting on his tack.

Ranárë came to her in the stable and announced that she would not be going on to Mirkwood with her. Though it had been more than two and a half millennia since last she was there, facing the King of the Woodland Realm was something she was not ready to do.

"Meeting Legolas again in Arnor was easy, as he had only the barest memory of me," she said. "And you can call me a coward if you like, but I just can't do it. Given what transpired last time he and I were in the same room, I daresay Thranduil is no more ready to see me than I am to see him."

With Ranárë choosing to stay behind, Elladan and Elrohir elected to remain with her. Tauriel was not surprised by that in the least, though she was when Bronwë also chose to stay behind. The twins, not wanting to leave Tauriel and Laivindil with only Melvar for an escort, spoke to their grandparents about providing additional security. Before Lothlórien's lord and lady even had chance to query their guards, Laivindil's adoptive parents spoke up, saying they would join the three as they continued on their journey—the young Ranger would return with them once Tauriel and Laivindil were safely seen to Thranduil's halls.

After heartfelt goodbyes to Arwen and the twins, a handshake with Ranárë and Bronwë, and a cordial salute to Celeborn and Galadriel, Tauriel climbed up on her horse. When the others had finished their goodbyes, the group departed.

They kept a steady pace from dawn until dusk each day. There were thankfully no issues crossing the marshes in Gladden nor the river as Tauriel had experienced with Bard's company on the way south; thanks to the heat of late summer, the marshes were fairly dry and the river level low. When they reached the village of Halken and found it a ruin, Tauriel immediately jumped down from the saddle and called out the names of everyone she remembered until Tirinwë, Laivindil's father, pointed out that the devastation surrounding them was several weeks old.

His wife Ceridwen then drew her attention to a series of graves, the earth on top of them not covered with burnt grass. Tauriel knew then that they had been dug about the time the buildings had been burned, which meant that someone, at least, had survived. She took small comfort in that knowledge, and after saying a prayer over the graves, she once more seated herself on the gelding's back. The others followed suit and they were on their way again, the ebony Meara plodding along at Tauriel's side.

Nine days after departing Lothlórien, the small company at last reached the west gate of Mirkwood. Melvar made a comment on how "creepy" the place looked, then appeared afraid that Tauriel would take offense to his comment. She surprised him by laughing and agreeing, though when she turned away again her expression sobered. No doubt Thranduil knew by now that she had left Bard's company; she was certain her husband had been back in Dale since about the time she had arrived in Lothlórien, and as he was friendly with the Elvenking, it was reasonable to assume some contact between them had been made since then.

Her reception here was yet another concern, though she worried over it far less than that she would receive in Dale in a few days.

The group had been walking along the elf path which skirted the enchanted river for a couple of hours when suddenly they found themselves face to face with a company of Guards on horseback. Feren was at the fore of the five, and he alighted from his horse the moment he realized whom he was facing.

" _Mae g'ovannen_ , Feren," Tauriel greeted him.

Feren did not return her greeting—in fact, he appeared quite angry as he strode toward her. "Where the _hell_ have you been?!" he demanded. "Alaren informed the king near three weeks ago that Lord Bard of Dale told her you'd left the company months back. Had it not been for Lady Galadriel sending a message by falcon you were on your way, no doubt he'd have sent out a search party before long. Lord Thranduil has foolishly worried for you more than his own son these last weeks."

Tauriel frowned, more annoyed with Galadriel's interference—yet again—than the fact that Feren had just yelled at her as though she were a child, when in fact she was not only older than he by nearly a hundred years but also his superior in the Guard.

Or she had been.

Before she could make any response, Thêllenn walked forward and straight up to the angry elf before them. She stepped so close to him that he was forced back several paces.

"What the devil is this horse doing?" he asked.

From the corner of her eye, Tauriel noted Laivindil throwing a haughty glare his way, and Tirinwë moved his horse up beside his daughter's. "I would say she is taking exception with how you greeted Lady Tauriel, young man. The Meara has taken an exceptional like to her and is quite protective," he said.

The bewildered look that crossed Feren's face made Tauriel want to laugh, so she bit her bottom lip to keep from doing so. "Do not fret over him, Thêllenn. Feren is merely very loyal to his king. Leave him be," she called out to the ebony mare.

She then looked to Feren and said, "Where I have been and what I have endured is a tale I will share, perhaps, but not now. Why are you here, if I may ask?"

Feren looked up as Thêllenn turned to walk away from him, though he was not quick enough to dodge the flick of her thick tail and was treated to a well-placed _thwap_ across the right side of his face. The _ellon_ frowned, then turned his gaze to Tauriel. "Based on Lady Galadriel's message as to when you departed Lothlórien, His Majesty estimated you would reach our home on this day or the next. My company and I were to meet with you and escort you and your companions to the palace."

As if she didn't already know the way, Tauriel mused. _Does he think to ensure I actually arrive there instead of passing him by?_

Aloud she said, "It is most kind of Lord Thranduil to send additional protection for us. Thank you for coming."

Feren gave a curt nod before returning to his horse and climbing back into the saddle. He was silent, as were those that had accompanied him, as they turned around and began to lead the way further into the woods. Tauriel shrugged and urged her mount to follow. Several hours later, when night had fallen and little could be seen more than a few feet ahead, the group of ten made camp for the night. It was not until she had dismounted and a good fire was going that the elves in Feren's group took note of Tauriel's pregnancy.

Feren seemed more surprised than the others. "When did this happen?" he asked her. "Surely it cannot belong to the dwarf."

Tauriel took a breath before responding in order to keep her temper under control. Her tone when she spoke was clear indicator that he'd overstepped, though her voice was even when she replied. "Firstly, Lieutenant, my child is not an 'it'. Secondly, the dwarf of which you speak had a name. It was Kíli—show the dead some respect and actually use it when next you speak of him. And no, the child is not his."

She said nothing more on the subject and retreated to her bedroll, where she carefully lowered herself to the ground and took the fruit and water offered to her by Laivindil with a smile. It was obvious Feren and the others wished to know more, for certainly they could see that she was bonded—it was much more apparent to her kin the closer she was to her mate, and resonated more strongly in the back of her own mind.

 _Oh Bard_ , Tauriel thought with a sigh. _How I hope you will be pleased to see me_ …


	55. Chapter 55

**She's getting closer...**

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set the next evening when the palace came into sight.

It was no surprise to Tauriel that there was a welcoming party at the end of the bridge. Alaren's entire unit was fanned out across the entry into Thranduil's halls—she'd half expected to see the king himself if his concern was really as great as Feren had made it out to be. But a part of her was also glad she had a few more minutes before she had to face him, though it was hardly like to be enough to prepare herself for all his inevitable questions.

Alaren was at her side before she'd even climbed down from her horse. " _Mae athollen_ , Tauriel," she said with a smile. Her gaze was then drawn to Thêllenn, who lowered her head and nudged the _elleth_ 's hand with a nicker.

"Is this horse a Meara?" Alaren asked as she cautiously scratched the mare between the ears.

"She is indeed," Tauriel replied as she climbed down. "She is called Thêllenn, and she journeys with us because she chooses to do so."

Feren snorted. " _You_ she seems to like," he said to Alaren as he walked past her.

Laivindil chuckled softly. "What the _aranel_ neglected to mention is that we met this beautiful creature in Rohan, after camping with some fur traders there. They claimed to have seen her roaming around for days as though waiting for someone, and Tauriel seems to be the person she was waiting for. The mare approached that night and has traveled with us since. You're the first she's let touch her other than my Lady."

Alaren grinned, then turned her eyes to Tauriel. She let them roam over her as though assessing her condition, her gaze pausing as it fell on her midsection. A soft gasp escaped the other _elleth_ 's lips and she looked up again.

"How wonderful," she said. "There has not been a babe born to a lady of Mirkwood in more than three hundred years."

Then, to the surprise of several of the elves present, Alaren reached up and drew Tauriel into an embrace. "He will be so happy to see you again," she whispered.

Tauriel tightened her hold on her friend at the words spoken just loud enough that only she could hear—and there was no doubt as to whom Alaren referred. Tears stung eyes closed tight as emotion swelled beneath her breast, and she responded with, "Do you really think so?"

"He loves you, Tauriel. You hurt him, I will not lie, but I know that he still loves you. Forgiveness will take time, but with a child between you, I'm sure it will take less than were you not blessed with new life."

Drawing a ragged breath to keep the tears from falling, Tauriel nodded and drew back. "Feren says the king was worried for me. Is that so?"

Alaren chuckled. "He was certainly not happy when I relayed news of your departure," she said.

"Great. Yet another man I've now a need to appease," Tauriel muttered, then proceeded to make her way across the bridge. Inside the palace gate, grooms waited to take the horses to the stables; they were surprised when not only was one of them not bridled or tethered in some way, but that she went along with minimal direction from Tauriel, who informed them they need not attempt to handle her, only to guide Thêllenn to a stall and she would enter of her own accord.

The four who'd guided them through the woods along with Feren and most of Alaren's company departed after that, the lieutenant and the captain taking point as they were led through the halls to one of the many reception rooms. Feren took up a post by the door with another guard as Alaren quietly directed the group of five to make themselves comfortable around the table, while she notified the king they had arrived.

Nervousness immediately settled in Tauriel's limbs—she wanted nothing more than to get up and pace, but she forced herself to remain seated, her hands clasped together in her lap, the appearance of calm stealing over her even though she felt anything but.

It was only a few minutes later that Thranduil swept in with Alaren on his heels. Tauriel and those with her stood and gave the formal salute.

"Tauriel, _glass nín gen achened_ ," he said, holding his hands out to her.

Tauriel stepped forward and took his hands in hers as she bowed her head again. "My Lord," she greeted him softly.

"Captain Alaren, you mentioned our Tauriel was wed," Thranduil said casually. "Now I see that she is with child also—my, my, _iell nín_ , you have been a busy _elleth_ , haven't you?"

The king dropped her hands and turned toward the table, where he naturally took the seat at the head. When she and her companions had been seated, Thranduil looked to Tauriel with a searching gaze, then said over his shoulder, "Feren, go and see to it that the kitchen sends up refreshments for our guests."

"Yes, my Lord," Feren replied, and was gone in an instant.

"So, Tauriel…" the king began, "I see you have decided to trade your prince for a king."

He could have meant Kíli, who had been a prince among his people. He could have been referring to Legolas, his own son. And though she was certain Thranduil was only attempting to jest, the remark stung just the same, and she felt her cheeks alight with color. Tauriel made no reply and hoped the awkward moment would pass, but Laivindil, whose loyalty already astounded her, was not so inclined to let it lie.

"I beg your pardon, sir," the Dúnadan said hotly, "but that remark was entirely uncalled for."

Her adoptive mother admonished her softly; Tauriel could see in her peripheral vision that Thranduil was surprisingly amused by the outburst, the corners of his lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile.

"Your mortal friend is quick to defend you," he said in Sindarin.

On the other side of Tauriel, Laivindil raised an eyebrow. "Do not be so quick to presume that said friend cannot understand Sindarin just because she is mortal," the girl retorted in perfect, Lórien-accented Sindarin. "I was raised by these good elves here—" She indicated Tirinwë and Ceridwen. "—and thus know just as much of that particular Elven tongue as you do. In fact, I likely know Quenya better than Your Majesty."

Thranduil mimicked her expression. "Is that so?" he asked in Westron.

Tauriel placed a hand on Laivindil's arm. "I am grateful that you would stand up for me, Laivindil, but it is not necessary. King Thranduil, I am sure, meant his words as a joke."

She turned to him then and let him know with her eyes that she was no more pleased than the girl beside her. "Unfortunately, his sense of humor has been hidden away for thousands of years and he is no longer practiced in its use. Therefore he does not know what jests are in good taste and which are not."

Thranduil's expression changed immediately. Oddly enough, he appeared to her both sorry that he had made an error and angry that she had put him down in return, in front of an audience no less.

Laivindil, it seemed, would not be easily appeased. "Forgive me, _Aranel_ , but even a king should respect those he has deemed his guests—even more so one he has referred to as 'my daughter'."

The tension that had quickly mounted was momentarily broken by the arrival of two maidens from the kitchen and Feren, who returned to his post by the door. The _ellith_ entered carrying trays, one with a large bottle of wine and several glasses, the other laden with fruits and cheeses and bread. From the first tray the glasses were taken and set before each of them, then filled before the bottle was returned to the tray where it sat on a side table. The tray with the food was sat in the middle of the table around which they were gathered. Once their task was complete, the kitchen maids curtsied to their king and retreated as silently as they had entered.

Thranduil picked up his glass and took a drink of the wine, his eyes on Laivindil, before he said, "Young lady, whether you are more versed in the ancient language than I is debatable, but suffice it to say I _do_ know the Quenya word for 'princess'—and your use of it is entirely out of place," he said, and Tauriel noted a trace of his old, familiar arrogance seeping into his tone. "There is no royal blood among the Silvan Elves in my lands—or any land, for that matter."

"Not even you," Laivindil shot back. "For I know much of the history of this world, and I know that you were not born into royalty. Sindar you may be, but had it not been for the graciousness of the Silvan Elves of this land in taking your father as their lord, you would not have had a crown to inherit. You ought show greater respect for those you rule over, for without them you would not be king."

Silence so deep one could have heard a pin drop in the next chamber descended over the room as the king and his guest stared at one another. They were all of them surprised when suddenly Thranduil laughed.

"You—Laivindil, is it? I like you," he said. "So very few are willing to speak their minds in my presence—apparently I am rather famous for my temper."

He shot a knowing look at Tauriel as he spoke the last, and she could not help but smile. "I would have you tell me," he went on, "why you called Tauriel 'princess'."

"The _epessë_ was given to her by another," Laivindil replied. "Like she, I use it as a mark of respect."

Thranduil looked to Tauriel. "And why would this 'she' Laivindil speaks of anoint you thus?"

Tauriel drew a breath, wondering how to explain. In truth, she'd not intended to reveal to the king what she had learned about her heritage, as she didn't see the point. It didn't change her situation at all, didn't change who she was. Learning about Maglor, and by extension her kinship with others, only told her where part of her family had come from.

She had, however, planned on telling Bard. While her being born of royal blood meant little to her, he, of all people, she wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

"It would seem, my Lord," she began slowly, "that I am not Silvan after all, as you and I have long believed."

Over the next few minutes, Tauriel spoke of her trek through the mountains—though not precisely why she had traveled that way—her encounter with the orc horde, and her rescue by Rangers of the North. She told him of her time in Rivendell, how Elrond had written to his foster father with the suggestion she might be his kin, and how on meeting Maglor for the first time, she had sensed the bond of kinship herself.

She did not mention the part Ranárë had played in the series of events—something told her that it would be best she kept her name out of it. Though she was insanely curious as to what had transpired between the Maia and Thranduil that the other woman would decline to return to the Woodland Realm, even after more than two millennia, instinct told her the king's mood would alter drastically upon hearing she had been involved.

Tauriel did, however, say that she had seen Legolas in Imladris. At this news Thranduil smiled, and she could see great relief in his eyes on hearing that his son was alive and well.

"He was, as he told me, quite surprised that the Ranger you suggested he seek was but a boy," she finished with a smile.

Thranduil grinned. "I did tell Legolas there was something he would have to learn for himself," he said. "I never said it was the only thing. Strider, as I know he is called, is quite the horseman for one so young."

Melvar perked up from his place across from Ceridwen. "Indeed he is, my Lord. Never have I seen a child of the Dúnedain learn to ride so well so fast. 'Tis how he earned the name Strider."

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgement, though his expression told Tauriel he'd already been well aware of that fact. That he did not say so aloud was small surprise to her, as in days past he'd rather enjoyed letting others know that he already knew something. Perhaps he really was trying to change.

The king then queried Tirinwë and Ceridwen as to how they'd come to raise a mortal child, and they recounted the story for him. Pride was evident in their voices as each spoke of what a bright, intelligent little girl she'd been, as well as what an accomplished young woman she had grown to be. Color bloomed in the girl's cheeks when her mother said she hoped Laivindil would someday soon find a Dúnedain husband with whom she could share a long life and many children.

"Dúnedain, are you?" Thranduil said to Laivindil. "Well, that certainly explains why Elrond would be willing to teach one not of our kin his knowledge of medicinal lore. He's always had a fondness for his brother's descendents."

Thranduil next spoke briefly with Melvar about the Rangers, then informed Tauriel about the Halken refugees he had hosted until just a few weeks ago. She was disheartened that so many had died, but pleased some had survived and were now safe in Dale. Soon after, the impromptu dinner ended and the others in her party were directed to chambers where they could sleep for the night. The king walked alone with Tauriel to her old, familiar room in silence. She knew it would not last—though he had not focused on it during the reception, his thoughts were no doubt centered on his son and what she'd told him about herself.

As they entered her old living quarters, Thranduil said softly, "There is a part of me that suddenly feels as though I ought to apologize to you yet again."

"Whatever for, my Lord?" Tauriel countered.

"You were born of royal Ñoldor blood. Though I have long considered many of them naught but pretentious snobs, I have always respected the royal houses. Even more, I took you into my home as a foster-daughter, for all intents and purposes a position that was akin to being a princess. I ought have treated you as such, yet for six centuries—though I showed you favor—I behaved toward you as though you were no one of importance," he replied as he strode over to the fireplace. "I've behaved that way toward everyone, as though there were none who mattered save for myself and my son."

He turned to her then. "I've been quite the arrogant bastard toward our people, haven't I?"

Tauriel wasn't sure how to respond to that. She wanted to be blunt, but she was so stunned to be once more confronted with this introspective side of her king she was afraid to be so honest. Then again, he needed to hear the truth no matter how painful.

"My Lord, you have been… Well, I suppose arrogant _is_ the word," she said at last. "'Ill-tempered' I've heard you described more than once. Although certainly kings and lords ought be afforded due deference as deemed by their station, no one person is unimportant. No one should be considered inferior to another. Laivindil is right, I must say. Had the elves of this land not granted your father lordship over them, you would not be a king now. For that you should certainly show those of Silvan blood—to whom this forest was home long before you called it such—a great deal more respect than you have thus far given them. If Legolas wants to marry a Silvan elf someday, let him. If he wants to marry a mortal daughter of Men, bless his union and hope he is happy.

"As for myself," she went on, "what's done is done. You cannot take back your harsh words nor can I unhear them. And the truth of my lineage matters little in the grand scheme of things. I may have been born of royal blood, but I can hardly claim the title of princess when that same title was forsaken by my grandmother the night she abandoned her husband. Maglor is now a prince of nothing, and I have no kingdom to inherit. There is truly little point to my having learned of being a princess when in the end it is but a small part of who I am. It is not my whole story. Ñoldor I may be by blood, but Silvan I will always be at heart."

Tauriel sighed then and offered Thranduil a small smile. "Dwell not on what is past, my Lord. Seek only to be better for the future."

Thranduil studied her a moment, then crossed the room and placed his hands on her shoulders. He smiled as he said, "You have grown so much in so short a time, Tauriel. You continue to amaze me with how open-minded and generous you are. I curse myself for all those years that I was too blind to appreciate that part of you—that I was too blind to appreciate _you_ for who you are. And I would have you know that even in my rage from the battle, and the loss of so many of our kin for so worthless a reason, I could not have killed you."

With a nod, she acknowledged his words. "I could no more have shot you with that arrow. We are neither of us kinslayers, my Lord. In that I am certain that my ancestors' blood does not taint me.

"You have grown as well," she went on, regarding him thoughtfully. "That you would admit your flaws and failings and express your desire to correct them, and reveal some of your innermost feelings—though I hardly think you have touched the surface—to one whom you banished and a son of Men… That is proof enough to me that you have seen the need for change and are making an effort to do so. Already I can see some result of your efforts—you are more welcoming and approachable. You smile more. Even the forest seems lighter of late. When we traveled through from the west gate, I noted there was much green in the leaves and color on the ground amongst the bushes and flowers. There was much more light, also—you've had someone thinning the canopy, haven't you?"

"Indeed," Thranduil replied. "Soon sorties will be sent out to burn the spider nests as those fell creatures sleep. I am even considering a raid on Dol Guldur to hit them at their source, as you have long suggested we do. I only wish to be certain our people will suffer no losses in the endeavor, so it will take much planning."

Tauriel knew that the safety of his kin was paramount to Thranduil, and she was glad that he was, at long last, taking her suggestion to heart. "I do not doubt you will see the task done and all lives of our kin spared, my Lord."

Thranduil bowed his head in acknowledgement. "I believe you will make a fine queen for the people of Dale. You are so very kind-hearted and forgiving, _iell nín_ —"

A sigh escaped her. "Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked. "It was not even a year ago that you declared I was not good enough for your son, yet each time we have met since the battle, you have addressed me as 'my daughter'. For that matter, why do you make your confessions to me? We have spoken more deeply in the nine months since that fateful day than ever we did in the six hundred years prior."

The king stared at her for a long, silent moment, then breathed a deep sigh through his nose. "I have done you wrong, Tauriel, and I desire to make amends. One mistake I made is not treating you as I should have—as a daughter, as when I gave you a home alongside my son that is what you should have been to me. Another, I see now, was denying Legolas a chance to follow his heart to you, for then you truly would be my daughter." He snorted. "He's not likely to forgive me for that anytime soon.

"As to making confessions," Thranduil continued, "even a king must vent his feelings and frustrations, and as we both know mine have been held in check for far too long. Who else can I speak to if not the closest thing I have to a daughter? If not the closest thing I have to a friend?"

Tauriel blinked. "You mean Bard?" she asked, incredulity obvious in her tone.

"Who else?" he replied with a slight lifting of his shoulders. "You did mention him before as one to whom I have made confession—which tells me he spoke of it to you."

"He spoke to no one else if that is what concerns you."

Thranduil shook his head. "I am not concerned at all, so long as the two people to whom I make confession share those confessions with no one else."

The look he gave her was pointed, and she could not help but smile. "There is one other, my Lord, to whom you really ought confess your feelings when the next opportunity presents itself."

"Really now? And just whom do you think I should speak to?"

"Legolas. Your son should hear you say that you love him. That you're sorry you stood in the way of his happiness."

Raising an eyebrow, Thranduil retorted, "Bard should hear you say the same thing."

Tauriel looked down at her feet. Thranduil was no fool—Alaren had told him she was wed, and he'd seen that she carried a child. He had already concluded Bard was her mate, and so it was not too far a leap of logic for him to have guessed what had driven her to run away. "He will hear those words on the morrow. I only hope he can find it in his heart to forgive my foolishness," she replied sadly.

"I think he will. Mortals have an incredible capacity for forgiving the transgressions of others, especially those they love." He crooked a finger under her chin and raised her head so that she looked him in the eye. "I must confess, Tauriel," he went on with a slight smirk, "that I sensed a connection between the two of you the moment I set eyes on you that first day of your journey. You might not yet have been aware of it—"

"More like I was fighting it," Tauriel said with a small laugh.

"—but it was there," Thranduil said. "And it was strong. I was not entirely surprised at the timing either, for you have such a great desire to love and be loved. And I was certainly pleased that you hadn't fallen for another dwarf—your taste in men has much improved."

Tauriel narrowed her eyes and Thranduil laughed. "You really need to work on your sense of humor," she told him. "While I appreciate your efforts, I don't appreciate the reference. There's not a damn thing wrong with anyone loving a dwarf."

"Come now, Tauriel—surely you must see some humor in it," the king returned. "How would the dwarf have kissed you when your lips were so far above his own? He'd have had to climb atop a box to reach you!"

"And I would have loved him for desiring to make the effort," she retorted. "Dwarves are people too, Thranduil. You really ought to remember that."

"Being a better king to our people will take little effort," he said. "Being kinder toward dwarves will take far more. You can hardly expect me to make more than one personality change at a time."

Tauriel lifted an eyebrow, then turned and made her way toward the door and opened it. Thranduil took the hint and moved to join her.

"Keep it in mind just the same," she said. "For soon enough you will have an entire kingdom full of dwarves living right next door."

Thranduil emitted a disgusted noise as he stepped across the threshold into the corridor. "Don't remind me," he muttered sourly, before turning and gracing her with a smile. "Good night… _Aranel_."

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she replied, "Good night, _aran nín_."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Mae athollen_ – Welcome back.

 _glass nín gen achened_ – it is my joy to see you again

 _ellith_ – female elves (plural)

 _aran nín_ – my king


	56. Chapter 56

Tauriel woke the next morning feeling ill.

She knew by instinct it wasn't a recurrence of her pregnancy sickness though there was some dizziness and nausea. This just _felt_ different—she also had a dull headache, felt warmer than usual, and lethargy weighed her limbs. It wasn't her own condition she was sensing, she soon realized, but Bard's. It had to be.

Valar, she hoped he was all right. Her desire to see him again increased in urgency, but she knew she had to get through breakfast with the king first. After she used the privy and dressed, she made her way to the dining hall. Though the knowledge that something was wrong with Bard concerned her, Tauriel could not help but realize as she walked through halls that were as familiar to her as the woods and hills around them that…she was a guest here. The palace no longer felt like home. In her heart, she knew that home was wherever Bard was, but if he rejected her because of what she'd done, she knew she'd never be able to come back here to live.

Tauriel recalled Elrond's offer and prayed once again that she'd not need to take him up on it.

Breakfast started off tense. When he entered the dining room, Thranduil had, with one of his usual smirks, greeted Tauriel as ' _Aranel_ ', as he had when he said goodnight. On hearing this, Laivindil had made a casual remark about his having picked up Ranárë's nickname for her and the king had reacted, though not in the way Tauriel had expected.

He didn't scowl in anger as she'd suspected he would given Ranárë had said they'd not parted well. She was, frankly, stunned to lift her eyes and see his own widen as the color drained from his face. She stood then and requested the others leave, and when they had she immediately filled a glass with water and set it before him, though Thranduil made no move to drink it.

It was many minutes before she got any kind of response from him at all, and she'd been about to have one of the guards send for a healer when suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed the water. He downed it all without coming up for air, and when he set the glass back down again, the king surprised her by revealing precisely why he had been so shocked to hear Ranárë's name again. Tauriel understood after hearing the history of their relationship why he had reacted as though he'd been struck, even though more than two and a half thousand years had passed since last they had seen one another.

Once Thranduil had calmed, the morning meal was resumed, though he excused himself as soon as the others returned to the dining room. Tauriel's concern split between her husband and her king, and with her connection to Bard telling her he was getting worse, she only picked at her food.

"My Lady, you must eat," Laivindil said at one point. "Both you and the child need the nourishment."

Tauriel smiled weakly. "Please, do not start that again," she said. "I would gladly eat save for an unsettling feeling that all is not well with my husband. Through our bond I sense he is very ill."

"Do not fret, my dear," said Ceridwen with a knowing smile. "You will be with him soon, and all will be well."

 _I hope you are right_ , Tauriel thought as she went back to trying to eat. She gave up after a couple of minutes—her appetite simply wasn't there. With the idea that she would go and check on Thranduil in mind, she pushed her plate away and stood.

At the same time, an overpowering wave of dizziness hit her and she stumbled. Laivindil and Tirinwë were immediately on either side of her.

" _Aranel_ , what's wrong?" Laivindil asked.

"I don't know—it's not me, it's him. Something is very wrong with Bard," she managed.

"Let us get you to the healers' hall just to be sure you and the babe are well," suggested the Dúnadan. "It would ease my mind to be certain you've not taken ill yourself."

"If you insist—but we must leave soon," Tauriel said. "I must get to Bard."

On the way to the healers' wing of the palace they encountered Alaren who, on seeing Tauriel's pale face, declared she would inform the king. Tauriel tried to stop her, calling after her that it was hardly necessary to bother him, but Alaren ignored her. In the ward she was helped to a bed by Laivindil and her father, and with the girl's assistance, one of the healers on duty conducted a quick examination. As they were finishing, Alaren arrived with Thranduil in tow.

"I told you to leave him be," Tauriel moaned as she tried to sit up, only to fall back again as she was hit with another wave of dizziness.

Thranduil marched straight to the healers. "Tell me what ails her. Is it the child?" he demanded.

The Elven healer looked from Laivindil to his king and back again. "I do not believe Captain Tauriel's condition is her own, _aran nín_ ," he said. "Though I know nothing of what symptoms an _elleth_ would endure when the sire of her child is mortal, from what these folk have told me, she suffers because her mate suffers. It is our belief that Lord Bard has taken ill."

Thranduil opened his mouth as though to speak, but turned sharply at a commotion that sounded in the hallway. Someone was asking for him, their tone frenzied. He nodded at Alaren and she immediately went to investigate. A moment later, she came back with Feren in tow.

"My Lord," the _ellon_ said with a brief bow. "Scouts have reported an attack by spiders in the woods—"

"That is hardly a rare occurrence, Lieutenant," Thranduil said sharply. "Tell me what fuels this desperation with which you have sought me."

"A dwarf and a man were attacked," Feren said. "Thorin Stonehelm, son of King Dáin, the former is called, apparently. The man was Bain, son of Lord Bard."

At that, Tauriel forced herself into a sitting position. "What of Bain? What happened?"

Feren looked to her, then back at the king. "The scouts said they were outnumbered by the spiders, but our guards were able to assist them and the beasts were neutralized. However, a pony ridden by the dwarf was killed and Bain was injured, as were two of our men."

Tauriel swayed and Laivindil rushed over to sit beside her and hold her steady. A mixture of concern and anger flashed across Thranduil's features as he tore his gaze away and back to the soldier. "Where are they now?" he demanded.

"Several of the guard are escorting them here as we speak, my Lord," Feren replied.

"Winter cannot come soon enough," Tauriel said with a soft growl. "Long have I been weary of having to defend myself as I walk the paths of these woods. I would not have my family endangered as they do so."

"We'll burn the nests in the woods immediately," Thranduil replied. "Dol Guldur we will hit within a fortnight. I share your weariness, _iell nín_ —it is long past time I took back my forest."

It was nearly an hour later that the party finally arrived. Tauriel gasped in alarm at the sight of Bain as the unconscious boy was carried in by one of the Guard. He had blood on his face and clothes, and his left arm had been broken above the elbow—the bone was poking through the fabric of his sleeve. Ignoring her own discomfort, she rose from her bed and moved to the side of his while Laivindil tended to him, the Elven healer and one of his peers tending to the injured elves.

"How is he?" she asked, taking Bain's right hand in hers.

Laivindil remained silent as she assessed Bain's condition. She opened his eyelids, felt around the break, peered at a cut on his head, and probed gently at his abdomen. Finally she paused and said, "His appearance is worse than his overall condition, my Lady. The break is the most severe of his injuries. He is unconscious, but he'll soon wake when the bone is set."

"Dwarf, what is your reason for venturing into my woods?"

Tauriel looked up at Thranduil's question. By the door—an armed Guardsman and Feren on either side of him—stood a stocky dwarf with red-brown hair that didn't appear to be much older than Kíli had been. But then with dwarves it was often hard to tell—his namesake hadn't looked to be near 200, after all.

"I have a name, which you have no doubt already been told," Thorin Stonehelm said, a scowl descending on his features. "Be courteous enough to use it."

"Answer my question, or you may visit the last residence of your kin when they came to my realm uninvited."

"Thranduil, stop it," Tauriel admonished sharply as she stood straight. "My Lord Thorin, please—tell us why you and Bain were in the forest."

Thorin flicked his eyes her way. "There is a sickness," he said. "The Men have named it the crimson flush, as one of the symptoms is a red rash upon the skin. It is accompanied by fever, sore and swollen throat, headache—"

"Dizziness and nausea," Tauriel finished.

The dwarf looked surprised. "Yes, those as well. How do you know?"

"I…I felt it…" Her eyes widened as fear danced along her spine. "Oh, Elbereth!"

Alaren as at her side in an instant, helping ease her down into a chair. Laivindil stopped in her cleaning of Bain's cuts and turned toward the door. "Master Dwarf, tell me—are there patches of white and yellow in the throats of the ill? Their tongues white with patches of red?"

Thorin nodded. "Aye. A dozen of my kin in the mountain have fallen sick to this plague, including my good father. In Dale there are twice as many, including Lord Bard and his eldest daughter. In Esgaroth I am not sure of the count, but they have lost five to death, and in Dale one passed just yesterday."

"Bard and Sigrid…" Tauriel spoke their names in a fearful whisper.

"Why are we just now hearing of this?" Thranduil demanded. "Though I know your father's prejudice would prevent his speaking of it, surely Bard would have written asking our aid before now."

Thorin cleared his throat, his expression full of guilt and sorrow as his eyes found Tauriel. "Three days ago, Lord Bard did write a letter asking if your healers might know of a cure for the flush. Regrettably, my father recalled the raven that carried it back to the mountain when he took notice of its direction of flight."

The king's expression grew thunderous, and Tauriel loosed a strangled cry as tears began to fall, her hand going to her belly. _He could die never knowing of our child, believing that I don't love him_ , she thought fearfully.

Thranduil took a step closer to Thorin. "If Bard or Sigrid dies because your father was too prideful to ask for my help, _dwarf_ , my wrath will know no bounds."

Thorin, for his part, did not flinch under the Elvenking's ire. He met the taller man's gaze without fear, and there was no hesitation in his voice as he spoke next.

"Will you help us?"

For a brief moment, there was silence. Tauriel actually thought Thranduil might say no to helping the dwarves out of spite—and she would not have blamed him, for she was just as angry at Dáin's stubbornness. But despair gripped her heart tighter than her anger, and when he turned to her, she could see the subtle shift in his features as he took in her fearful, teary gaze.

He would not turn away. Not this time.

The king's gaze then fell to Laivindil, who had returned to ministering to Bain. "Laivindil, by your words I gather you know of a treatment for this malady?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Yes, Your Majesty. Lord Elrond and I encountered it in a Dúnedain village in the Angle last summer. Athelas helps with the fever to a degree, but the best treatment is cillin."

"Cillin?" queried one of the Elven healers.

A blush colored the Dúnadan's cheeks as she finished cleaning the cut over Bain's left eye and applied a bandage. "Cillin is a medicine I discovered quite by accident. It is made from goldmoss, what the Lórien Elves call the moss that grows on the mallorn trees of the Golden Wood, for though it is green it bears a light golden sheen. My… curiosity… as to whether any medicine could be made from the moss is what led to my being sent to Imladris for instruction in the healing arts."

"Our daughter speaks the truth," spoke up Tirinwë.

"Do you have any of the cillin with you?" Tauriel asked, unashamed of the desperation in her voice.

Laivindil looked up at her with a soft smile. " _Aranel_ , I believe it is why I am here."

Of course—this illness that only Laivindil knew the cure for was what Galadriel must've seen, Tauriel mused. At the very least, her foresight had shown her that Laivindil would be needed in Dale. For the first time since she had looked into that accursed mirror, she found herself grateful for the Lady of Light's gift.

If she hadn't told Tirinwë and Ceridwen of her vision, and they in turn their daughter…

" _Aranel_ , _Ada, Nana_ ," Laivindil said then, drawing Tauriel's attention to her. "I am ready to set the bone. I need you to hold him down."

They moved to do as she asked, Tauriel taking position where she was at Bain's right arm, with Tirinwë at his right leg. Ceridwen, who had accompanied them to the healing ward, knelt and grasped the young man's left leg. The elder elves looked to Tauriel, who looked to Laivindil and nodded. Her hands firmly gripping Bain's arm on either side of the break, the healer forcibly pressed the two bones back together.

An agonized scream ripped from his throat, causing Tauriel to choke back tears. She rose to lean over him. "Bain, can you hear me? It's Tauriel."

He had regained consciousness, likely due to the shear amount of pain just setting his arm had caused. Bain looked to her with a tight expression. "Tauriel? How…when?"

"I arrived at King Thranduil's halls just last night, and was soon to come to Dale this morn," she replied softly. "Thorin told us about the flush. About your father and Sigrid. You needn't worry—there's a healer here who knows how to cure it. We're going to save them, Bain, I promise you."

A weak smile briefly touched his lips, but then he was gritting his teeth as Laivindil lifted his broken arm. Her mother helped hold it steady as she carefully bent his elbow, then they set the arm back down.

Laivindil looked to the Elven healers as she stood. "Forgive me, but are any of you gifted enough to heal the break? Otherwise we shall have to make a cast of bandages and paste."

"I can heal him," Tauriel said. "I healed Kíli once, and he was far worse off—"

"Absolutely not," Thranduil declared, fixing her with a hard stare. "While I commend your desire to help heal the son of your mate, even expending so little energy as it would take to mend his injury could endanger the life of your child."

One of the healers stepped forward, a dark-haired _ellon_ named Gildan. "I can mend the bones, my Lady."

"Tauriel."

Tauriel turned her attention to Bain as Gildan moved to Bain's left side, taking Laivindil's place. "Yes Bain?"

"Why?"

He did not need to elaborate—she already knew what he wished to be told: Why did she leave? Why did she come back?

"I left because I was blind," she said after a moment. "And I have returned because now I see. Though you may find it difficult to believe me at present, I truly love your father, and I would set things right if I can. I never meant to hurt him, or any of you. I hope someday that he—that you all—can find it in your hearts to forgive me."

Bain made to lift himself, until Gildan pressed a firm hand to his chest. "Lie still, young man, lest you would have me mend your arm at the wrong angle."

With a groan, the boy slumped back on the bed. Gildan placed both hands on either side of the break, careful of the still-open wound, and closed his eyes as he began to mutter an incantation in Sindarin. Almost instantly a soft light began to emanate from him, suffusing his entire being with its glow.

"Tauriel, I—Oh, that feels weird," Bain said, looking to his left at Gildan. "Is he really fixing my arm so I won't need a cast?"

Tauriel chanced a grin. "Indeed he is. With his gift Gildan will also be able to mend the tear in your flesh—though you're like to have a scar and you'll not be able to use your arm for a few weeks as it will still be very weak. You'll have to make use of a sling for a time."

Bain looked to her again, his eyes briefly touching on her swollen abdomen before locking his gaze to her own. "I heard the king mention the words 'mate' and 'child'—thought I was hearing things, what with hurting so much. Now I see at least one is true. Is that my father's baby you carry?"

With a nod, she replied, "Yes. Your father and I are wed according to the customs of my kin, and we begat this child the night of our union. That is why His Majesty referred to him as my mate."

"'Twas the night before you left, wasn't it?"

Tauriel nodded again. "Yes. I know you have many questions, Bain, and I would answer them all. But I feel your father deserves to hear my explanation first."

He was silent for a moment before nodding once. "Very well. You're sure the flush can be cured?"

Laivindil stepped up to the bed again. "Yes, my Lord. I have a sizable quantity of cillin with me, and gathered more goldmoss during our stay in Lothlórien on the way here—so if I need to make more I can. Do not worry, young master. Your father's life will be spared."

Bain looked to the Dúnadan for a moment, then back to Tauriel. "Good. I should not like to be made king before my father is given his crown, and this one's got a lot of explaining to do."


	57. Chapter 57

**Tauriel _finally_ makes it back to Dale, Tilda has a few words for Dorna, and Bard sees a face he'd long thought lost to him...**

* * *

After Gildan had finished healing Bain's arm and he was fitted with a sling, Laivindil prepared three teams of healers to take the cure to Dale, Erebor, and Esgaroth. The Dúnadan gave specific instruction on how to administer the medication as well as care for the patients who were ill. She also warned her peers that even Elves were susceptible to the virus (it was not fatal to them, but could make them utterly miserable for several days), and encouraged them to wear gloves when handling patients. About two hours after the arrival of Bain and Thorin into Thranduil's halls, they were ready to depart on their mission.

For the first time since the horse had taken to her, Tauriel rode on Thêllenn, giving Thorin the use of her gelding mount. Impatience and fear for Bard's deteriorating condition led to her riding ahead of the others, though Laivindil and even Bain tried pleading with her to wait for their party. But she could not. She had to get to Bard—she needed to see him, to touch him.

To tell him she loved him.

A journey which months ago had taken near half a day to complete with the company, Tauriel traveled in thirty minutes. Ranoden had spoken of the unmatched swiftness and stamina of the Mearas, and she was glad his words had not been an exaggeration. As she approached the bridge to the city, the _elleth_ sent a silent prayer of thanks to Oromë for bringing her and the mare together.

A guard shouted her name as she drew near the gate, followed by that of Magnus. Tauriel drew to a stop as one side of the gate opened and Bard's bodyguard stepped out.

"Lady Tauriel!" he declared. "What are you doing here? Where is Lord Bain?"

"I was in King Thranduil's halls when word reached us of the sickness that plagues Dale and Esgaroth," she replied. "Bain and Thorin Stonehelm were attacked by spiders but my people aided them in fighting the beasts off. Bain was injured and taken to the healers—he'll be fine—and three parties are at this moment on their way with a cure for the flush."

Magnus' eyes widened. "There _is_ a cure?"

Tauriel nodded. "I have brought a dose for Lord Bard and Sigrid myself. Please, Sir Magnus—I know he is your friend and that you must be angry with me for what happened, but I implore you, let me pass. I can save him, I swear it."

The soldier studied her for a long, tense moment, then said, "If you save my king, I will forgive your transgression against him."

She acknowledged his declaration with a nod, then Magnus pulled the door open wider and she gave Thêllenn a light kick. The Meara burst past Magnus and raced through the city at near breakneck speed. Tauriel barely noticed the few people who stared or gasped in shock at the sight of her, her thoughts focused only on getting to Bard.

When she reached the manor, she jumped down from Thêllenn's back, giving her a breathy thank-you before racing up the front steps. A moment later she had thrown open the front doors, startling Tilda.

"Tauriel, you're back!" the little girl squealed delightfully, then ran over and threw her arms around her. Almost immediately she stepped back again, her wide-eyed gazed falling to her middle. When she looked up again, Tilda's face was split into a huge grin.

"You and Da are having a baby! That's so wonderful!"

Tears sprang to Tauriel's eyes and she grabbed the girl to return her embrace—amazed and humbled, she was, by Tilda's immediate and warm welcome. That she did not question the parentage of the child growing within her felt like a gift.

"How are your father and Sigrid?" she asked as she released her.

Tilda's smile fell. "So you've seen Bain? Of course you have—where is he?"

"He is on his way here with some of my kin," Tauriel replied. "He and the son of Dáin encountered spiders in the woods and Bain was injured. He'll be fine, I assure you—he was brought to the palace by the Guard and that is when Lord Stonehelm told us of the crimson flush. I knew your father was ill and could not wait for them to be ready, so I came ahead with a dose of the cure for him and Sigrid."

"Oh, so there is a cure! I'm so happy to hear of it!" Tilda said with a smile. She then took her by the hand. "Come, I'll take you to Da."

His fever had gotten worse as the morning progressed and he had slept on and off, Tilda informed her as they walked through the manor, but Dorna—who'd moved in as a housemaid upon their return—had gotten him to drink some water. Sigrid's condition was much the same as it had been since she fell ill, though she'd also complained of a sore, swollen throat and had suffered bouts of vomiting.

"You'll really be able to help them?" she asked at last as they paused outside her father's room.

Tauriel gave her a smile and pulled the pouch of medicine from the bag she carried. "Yes, I will. The healer who gave me this medicine discovered it herself and used it last year to cure an entire village of the same illness. She will bring more for the others in Dale, and groups will be taking the cure to Erebor and Esgaroth as well."

"Tilda, who are you—" came Dorna's voice then, her words falling silent as the door to Bard's room was thrown open.

"Dorna, look who's come!" Tilda chirped happily.

Tauriel was about to greet the other woman, but the dark look that descended upon her features stopped her.

"How _dare_ you show your face here?!" she cried angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. "You disappeared for months and _now_ you come back?"

She sneered down at the bump of her belly, visible under the tunic she wore. "And look at you—come here with another man's child inside you when you were being courted by Bard. 'Tis a bastard, no doubt, that you intend to pass off as his. Well I won't stand for it! I'll not let you hurt him anymore than you already have—you've caused this family enough heartache, elf!"

For a moment, all Tauriel could do was stare in shock. She had known some—if not all—of Dale's citizens would be angry at her for leaving Bard like she had so soon after accepting his suit. But she had not expected such vehemence from Dorna, who'd always been friendly to her.

"How dare _you_ , Dorna!" Tilda shouted, fisting her hands on her hips. "You will _not_ talk to Tauriel that way—not in this house, not ever. And how dare you call my little brother or sister a bastard!"

Tauriel suddenly felt as though a bucket of icy water had been thrown on her, snapping her out of the daze she'd fallen into. Taking a breath, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin at Dorna's hateful glare.

"It is unwise to presume a person speaks falsely when you know nothing of the truth," she said, surprised by the evenness of her tone as her own hackles were raised. "I am not the sort of woman who would claim one man's offspring belongs to another. Bard and I begat this child the night we were wed in the custom of my people."

She cast a glance over the other woman's shoulder then, her breath catching in her throat to see Bard lying there trembling as though he were cold, even though his face was covered with a sheen of perspiration.

 _Bard?_ she thought, reaching out to him through their bond. Meleth nín _, can you hear me?_ He did not respond, and she fought the rise of her panic.

"Tilda, surely you don't believe this nonsense!" Dorna protested.

From down the hall, the door to Sigrid's room opened and a boy around Sigrid's age stepped out of it. "What's with all the shouting? You're disturbing Sigrid. And who's that?" he asked.

"What I do or do not believe is not important. It matters whether Da believes her," Tilda replied. "Though for the record, I do, as Tauriel has no reason to lie to me. Now get out of the way, as she's come with the cure and you're preventing my father and sister from receiving it."

She then looked at the boy who had spoken. "Téomas, this is Tauriel. She's come back to Da and she has a cure for the flush with her."

Téomas' expression, initially strained and worried, changed to one of hope. He moved toward them as Tilda pushed past Dorna, taking Tauriel by the hand and pulling her along. Dismissing the other woman from her thoughts, Tauriel focused on Bard as she sat on the side of his bed and opened the medicine pouch, pulling out a large tablet.

"What can I do to help?" Tilda asked.

"Pour a glass of water for me, I'll need it to help him swallow the tablet," she replied.

As Tilda did as she asked, Tauriel looked closer at Bard's flushed face. He looked so miserable, his features pinched, his hair matted around his head with sweat. The blanket laying over him was pulled up to his chin, but still he shook as though he felt a deep chill. She took the cloth beside a bowl on the bedside table and dipped it into the water it held, then wrung it out before wiping his face. Tilda turned with the glass of water in her hand.

After putting the cloth back beside the bowl, Tauriel slipped one hand beneath Bard's head to lift it. _Come now, I need you to open your mouth_ , she thought at him. _Please, listen to my voice and open your mouth, I do not want to have to force you_.

Whether he heard her or just needed to take a deeper breath, Bard nonetheless parted his lips, and Tauriel slipped the tablet past his teeth, setting it to the back of his tongue. She then took the glass of water from Tilda and poured some into his mouth, and his body reacted naturally—he closed his mouth and swallowed.

"What about Sigrid?" Téomas asked from behind her. "Will that little thing really help her?"

Tauriel looked over her shoulder at him. "It is a very strong medicine, according to the healer who made it. There is enough for everyone who is sick in all three cities, and she says one dose should be enough, though she believes she has enough for two should another be necessary."

She reached into the pouch again and held out the second dose. "Make Sigrid swallow this," she said as the boy took it from her. Tauriel then looked to Tilda. "Go with him. You will need to rub her feet to help draw the fever down from her head."

Tilda's eyes widened. "Her feet _have_ been icy cold—how did you know?"

"Laivindil, my companion and the healer who developed the cure, says cold extremities are a symptom of the illness, as the fever centers in the head and chest. Go quickly now, and see to your sister. I'll take care of your father."

The two made to leave, and Tauriel briefly noted that Dorna had disappeared. Téomas turned back at the door of Bard's room. "Where's Master Bain?"

"He'll be along shortly, with Laivindil and some healers from the Woodland Realm, to deliver the cure to the rest of the city."

Téomas nodded and, clutching the tablet in his hand, hurried out with Tilda on his heels. Tauriel wondered where he'd come from—figured it was likely Rohan or Gondor—and why he was in the manor. She considered his behavior as she set the glass of water down and moved to the end of the bed, throwing back the covers to expose Bard's feet. Given he'd been in Sigrid's room, and his concern for her, she had a feeling that Bard's eldest daughter had found herself a suitor.

The thought brought a smile to her face as she removed Bard's stockings and picked up one of his feet, rubbing vigorously along the top and sides as Laivindil had said to do. His feet hadn't felt icy on first touch but they were definitely not warm. In truth, she didn't understand how warming the feet would help, but Laivindil had been trained by one of the most renowned healers in all Elvendom, and she was frankly willing to try anything to help her husband get well.

 _Come on, Bard. Open your eyes for me. Look at me, please—I am here for you. I've come back_ , meleth nín.

She switched to the other foot, all the while attempting to reach out to him, to get any kind of response. It was several minutes later, when she was about to despair of ever seeing any reaction, that Bard finally did.

"T-Tauriel?"

A soft cry escaped her, tears of joy spilling down her cheeks as she quickly drew the blanket back over his feet and moved up the side of the bed again.

"Yes, _meleth nín_ , I'm here," she said as she sat next to him and brushed the back of her hand along his stubbled jaw.

" _Iston i nîf gîn_ ," Bard whispered weakly as he looked up at her.

His use of Sindarin made Tauriel smile. " _Iston i nîf gîn be mael_ ," she replied softly. _Do not bother yourself to speak_ , meleth nín. _Save your strength_.

 _I have none to save_ , came his reply, and even his thoughts seemed weak. It pained her to see him this way.

 _My strength is gone_ , Bard went on, closing his fevered eyes again. _You took much of it with you when you ran away from me, and what remained has since expired_. He sighed. _You cannot be here. I am dreaming. But it is a good dream, should I die before I wake_.

A choked sob escaped her at his words. "Oh, _meleth nín_ , no," she said. "I am really here with you, and you will not die. I will not let you—it didn't happen like this. This is _not_ what I saw!"

With that, Tauriel leaned over him, crying into his shoulder. Soon, a fluttering in her belly gave her tears pause and she sat up. Concentrating, she used her senses and realized it was the child. A tentative smile touched her lips and she shifted so she could pull Bard's hand from under the blanket. She placed it over her stomach and held it there, willing the baby to move again.

When it did, she laughed with delight. "Did you feel that, _meleth nín_? That is our child—you're going to be a father again, Bard. We're going to have a baby—so you must live. You _must_."

Tauriel laid across his chest again, one hand stroking his hair and the other holding his hand to her belly, that he might feel it whenever the baby moved. That was how she stayed, and how Laivindil and Bain found her some hours later.

The healer stepped into the room quietly and reached to touch Bard's forehead. She smiled, directing her gaze to Tauriel and then to Bain. "I believe his fever has already broken. The cillin has worked."

She looked down at Tauriel again. " _Aranel_ , he is going to be just fine."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Iston i nîf gîn -_ I know your face.

 _be mael_ \- as well


	58. Chapter 58

**Bard has a few angry words for both Tauriel and Dorna, and Laivindil proves her loyalty yet again...**

* * *

By the next morning, word reached Dale from Esgaroth and Erebor that the cillin had done its work—the sick were going to get well.

Homes and businesses were cleaned from top to bottom—and then cleaned again—to prevent further spread of the flush. Those living with the sick were encouraged not to venture out for at least another two days until it was clear no one else had contracted the illness; this way, they could keep the remnants of the virus from spreading to those who'd had no contact with it.

Word also spread within hours that Tauriel had returned—somehow, it also spread that she was pregnant. Speculation ran rampant as to whether the child was Bard's or not. To their knowledge, he'd been with no one since his wife; he just wasn't the type to lay with a woman casually. They'd courted, yes, but only for a week or so…and then she'd run off on him without explanation. Some also wondered if the child was legitimate even if Bard was the father—though it had been said she claimed they were married according to Elvish custom, did those customs really apply when one of the pair was of Men?

The people of Dale could not wait for Bard to get well, as then they hoped to get some answers to their questions. Tauriel wasn't talking—she hadn't even left the manor since her return.

The day after the cure was administered, Halia—saying she trusted the healing magic of the elves—moved back into the manor with her foster children. Erina and Tilda were ecstatic to be reunited after nearly a week apart. Halia was happy to see that Tauriel had returned and offered her many blessings on the upcoming birth of hers and Bard's child. Tauriel was moved to the point of tears that the woman so readily welcomed her back.

"I'd like to know as much as the next person why you left, and it made me madder than an angry hornet to see Lord Bard and the children so upset at your absence," she'd said. "But I'm sure you'd not have gone if you didn't believe you had to, and what's important now is that you've come home."

Tilda, Tauriel noted, not only welcomed her back with unbridled glee, she acted as though nothing had changed between them. She chattered cheerfully to all who would listen about how she was looking forward to no longer being the baby of the family. Bain, though relieved his father and sister would be all right, was reserved around her. He was polite whenever they spoke, but he made little to no effort to engage her in conversation. Tauriel suspected he was waiting to see what his father would do before he made up his mind.

She had no indication of Sigrid's feelings—although the cillin had served its purpose and she was going to get better, she had been sick longer than Bard and was therefore still very weak. The two times she had gone into the girl's room to see her she'd been asleep.

Téomas—who was from Rohan, she learned—had heard of her. He told her point-blank that he was unhappy she'd made Sigrid cry, but that since she'd done him no wrong he would reserve judgment until he knew her better. Of course, his reservation disappeared when Laivindil happened to mention that a Meara had not only followed them all the way from Rohan, but had allowed Tauriel to ride her when she wished to ride ahead of the healers. The horse now resided comfortably in the stables alongside his family's stock.

Dorna did not like that Tauriel was back and had no qualms about displaying her contempt. She refused to speak to her or do anything she asked, and whenever she entered a room Tauriel was in, she would scowl and walk back out again. It soon became clear to all that she'd never really liked the elf, though Halia had whispered to Tauriel at one point that she'd long suspected this and was amazed that neither she nor Bard had seen through her charade before now.

Tauriel had replied that one of the things she and Bard had in common was their desire to see the good in everyone. Dorna's previous behavior had given them no reason to think ill of her.

Two days after her arrival, Sigrid finally woke long enough to notice that Tauriel had returned. She asked why she had gone and Tauriel told her what she had told Bain—that she wished to give her explanations to their father first. Sigrid had accepted that, then said if she left again, the least she could do was say goodbye. Though her words had stung, Tauriel knew she had a right to feel that way. Sigrid then asked for a bath, which Tilda and Erina had to help her with, and when she was clean and in fresh clothes, asked if she could go sit outside in the sun for a while, as she'd not seen it for days. Téomas was more than happy to carry her and sit her in the chair Tilda carried out and placed near a shady tree.

At lunchtime, Tauriel sat in the kitchen quietly conversing with Halia, but didn't eat much. She knew Bard was awake and had bathed, as reported by Bain, but she had not seen him since the night before. Halia had taken him a light breakfast that morning as Laivindil had declared him still too weak to be moving about. She was nervous about seeing him fully conscious for the first time since she'd come back. What he would say? The butterflies in her stomach were not just the baby moving around.

"Here, my Lady," the housekeeper said as she placed a tray near her on the small dining table. "Take this to Lord Bard for me, won't you? That is, if you don't mind—I need to have a look in on Beryl to see if she's still napping."

Dorna, who'd been washing dishes, paused and said, "I can take it to him."

Halia drew in a breath, but did not look back at the younger woman. "You'll do no such thing, girl. Finish those dishes, then you've got Lady Sigrid's bed to strip clean and lay with fresh sheets."

Out of the corner of her eye, Tauriel noted Dorna scowling. She knew what Halia was doing—since she'd come back, Halia had found one mundane task after another to keep Dorna busy…and away from Bard's room. It was an effort for the _elleth_ to keep from smiling at Dorna's frustration.

She nodded and stood. "I shouldn't mind at all, Halia. 'Tis about time I go see him, for Bard and I have much to discuss."

"Aye, my Lady, that you do."

* * *

Tauriel walked into Bard's room with the tray of soup and bread Halia had prepared to find him sitting in the chair by the window, looking out into the courtyard. She was relieved to see that his color was already returning to normal.

He didn't speak when she entered and spared her only a glance as she crossed the threshold and set the tray down on a bedside table. Turning toward him, she walked over and lifted a hand to his brow to make sure his fever was truly gone. Bard brushed her hand away, the look he shot her dark and broody.

"You shouldn't be out of bed right now," she said.

"Do not make the mistake of pretending you care," he snapped as he pushed to his feet, brushing past her as he moved over to the bed and sat on the edge.

He had picked up the spoon and began to stir the soup before Tauriel found her voice and replied, "You're angry with me."

Bard threw the spoon down, splashing soup as it clattered in the bowl. "You're damn right I'm angry!" he declared. "You left, Tauriel. Just climbed up on your horse and rode away with nary a backward glance. You gave no thought to what your leaving would do to me, to my children, to the people on the expedition or even the people of this city! We came to rely on you, to trust you…to _love_ you. More than anyone, _I_ loved you. I gave to you of my body as well as my heart, and you walked away from me. From us. You didn't even give _us_ a chance, and could not be bothered to take the time to explain to me why you were leaving. So yes, I am very angry."

He turned his attention back to the bowl of soup as tears sprang to her eyes, and Tauriel fought not to let them fall. This Bard was much different than the one she'd seen the first couple of days, and though it was hard, she reminded herself that she'd known this was coming. She'd suspected he would be hurt, but the depth of his anger surprised her. Though she really should have expected no less—she had been a fool to leave like she had, to give in to her fear, and now she was paying the price for her folly.

"And what…what of our child?" she asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

When he looked back, his angry expression softened a fraction as he took in the roundness of her belly. The ghost of a smile flitted across his face, but when his eyes lifted to hers once more, they were hard and cold.

"We will discuss the matter of our child when I am able to stand the sight of you," he said. "Now leave me in peace."

Her control broke and the tears began falling. Tauriel choked back a sob as she turned and fled from the room. She nearly ran over Dorna as she moved down the hallway, so was remiss to the sly, satisfied smile the other woman fixed on her retreating form.

* * *

Bard watched with a sidelong glance as Tauriel ran out of his room. He fought the urge to follow her, to take her in his arms and hold her and tell her he didn't care about her leaving because she was here now. That he was overjoyed beyond words that they were going to have a child together.

But he could not. He was still too angry. And that anger had won over control of his decorum, had ruled over his desire to touch her with a darker desire: to lash out, to hurt her as she had hurt him.

 _Hurting someone who has hurt you does not make you the better person, Bard_.

Pausing with the spoon halfway to his mouth, he wondered where that thought had come from. His father had once said that to him as a child, when he'd punched Braga after the other boy had broken his first bow. That was the summer he'd been "punished" by having to go on the trading mission down the Anduin.

Dropping the spoon back into the bowl, Bard pushed it away and stood again, walking back to the window to look out into the courtyard. It warmed his heart to see that Sigrid was getting better. She wasn't running around playing with Tilda, Erina, and Beric, but she was laughing merrily at their antics from the chair she sat in by a tree. Téomas stood by her side, no doubt ready to do whatever task his daughter might ask of him—even if it was just to fetch her a blanket. Theirs was a young love, bright with the promise of a long future together, one not yet dimmed by anger or heartbreak.

He prayed that Sigrid and Téomas would never know that pain.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned his head to find Dorna at his side. "Is everything all right, Bard? I saw Tauriel run out of here a moment ago."

He fought a frown as he turned and moved away from her. "We had words, if that's what you're asking," he said, moving back to his bed once more. "You can take the tray, Dorna, I've no appetite to speak of."

"But you must eat if you are to regain your strength," Dorna said as she followed, sitting next to him on the bed.

Bard flinched when she began to rub his back. "If I were you, Bard, I would send the elf away," she said slowly. "She's only going to hurt you more than she already has. She'll hurt the children again, no doubt."

Bard stood so suddenly that he was hit by a wave of dizziness. Dorna jumped to her feet and reached for him but he shrugged her off. When at last he was certain he would not fall flat on his face, he turned to look at her, and for the first time since she'd come to work at the manor her sweet smile and wide eyes didn't look so innocent. A nasty thought occurred to him, and he felt himself frown.

"I do not know what game you are playing, Dorna, but I'd cease if I were you," he told her.

She took a step toward him. "Bard, I'm not playing any game," she said. "Though now I feel I can confess to you my true feelings."

Taking his left hand in hers, she placed it over her breast. "Can you not feel how my heart beats for you? For years I have yearned for you, and you have never seen me. You have looked at no woman since Aja's death other than that elf, and look what she's done. She broke your heart—she broke the children's hearts."

He jerked his hand away and took a step back. "Do not speak to me of Tauriel, for you know nothing about her."

"I know that her leaving wounded you," Dorna retorted. "You've been a different man since she left, Bard. You don't smile anymore. You don't laugh. And then there's her pregnancy… Tauriel was gone near half a year—how do we even know the child is yours, as she so claims?"

Bard's frown fell into a scowl. "Tauriel may be many things, but a liar is not one of them. She would not name me the father of her child were it not so."

Dorna closed the distance between them and raised her hands to his shoulders. "Okay then, so what if it's yours? You already have three children who are near grown. Your eldest daughter may soon be wed, if Téomas' attention to her is any indication. And you are soon to be a king. You don't need the distraction of a squalling infant in your house while you are busy building an empire. You don't need a woman you cannot trust by your side, you need a queen who will never fail you."

She then pulled him down so that their mouths met. Bard immediately took her by the shoulders and pushed her back from him. "So that's what your aim is," he said darkly. "All your apparent kindness to Tauriel before she left, to the children and myself after… It was all so you could ingratiate yourself into my home. What was the next step of your plan to be? Were you going to slip into my bed in the dark of night? Would I one day come to take my rest and find you here waiting in the nude? Did you honestly think such tricks would work, that they would make me forget the woman I love?"

Dorna reached for his face and he knocked her hands away. "She doesn't deserve you!" she cried. "She's known you not even a year, and I've known you all my life! This kingdom deserves a queen of its own people, not some bloody elf who knows nothing of our ways!"

"What this kingdom deserves are rulers of integrity and honor," Bard shot back. "In me the people have that, and in my queen—should I decide I desire one—they will have it also. But they would not have it in you, a woman who uses deceit and wiles to scheme her way to a title she does not deserve."

He took her by the arm then and marched her toward the door. "You'd do well to put any thought of being my queen out of your mind, Dorna," he said, then pushed her into the hall. "You would also do well to remove yourself and your belongings from this manor within the hour."

Her eyes widened. "You're throwing me out?!" she cried shrilly.

"Yes," he replied bluntly. "I'm certain you'll have other lodgings before long—surely there's some man here who you have not yet played for a fool. There's also the inn, in case I'm mistaken. Remember, Dorna: one hour."

With that, he took hold of his door and slammed it closed between them. Dorna raged incoherently and kicked at the aged wood. Bard ignored her and walked over to his wash basin. Halia had refilled the pitcher earlier that day, and he picked it up and filled the bowl, splashing the lukewarm water to his face. Tauriel's face, tears falling down her cheeks, bore its way to the forefront of his mind then, as did his father's words once more.

 _Hurting someone who has hurt you does not make you the better person, Bard_.

He needed to make amends with her, if for no other reason than the sake of their child. Whether or not they repaired the damage done to their relationship, Bard knew he had to at least be on peaceful terms with her. Though he'd hardly expected he would be a father again (in spite of Galadriel's words to him about children), now that he knew a son or daughter was coming he could not help but be pleased. He felt himself smile at the prospect of holding another infant in his arms, one perhaps with his hair and eyes…but his mother's ears.

Splashing water to his face again, Bard then reached for a towel to dry himself. He determined he would find Tauriel and at least try to… He didn't know. He was now unsure how to proceed, and only knew that he needed to see her and tell her that he wanted to be a part of his child's life, for he suddenly feared she might well leave again, taking any opportunity for him to know their baby with her.

The noise in the hall outside his door had gone silent, but Bard still worried Dorna would be there when he reached for the handle. Thankfully she was not, and so he turned and headed for Tauriel's room. He had taken but two steps when another wave of dizziness swept over him and he was forced to lean into the wall for support.

Down the hall, a blonde woman came out of Tauriel's room and shut the door. When she saw him she rushed to his side and put an arm around his waist. "Let me help you back to your bed, _hîr nín_ ," she said. "You are not yet well enough to go walking about."

"Who…who are you?" he asked as he fought to regain his balance. Her face was vaguely familiar, but he could not recall her name—Tauriel or Halia had brought him his meals the last two days.

"I am Laivindil, a daughter of the Dúnedain raised from infancy by Tirinwë and Ceridwen of Lórien," she replied, and he noted absently that the cadence of her voice was distinctly Elvish.

She tried to get him to turn but he refused. "I'm certain yours is an intriguing story, one I should like to hear sometime."

" _Hîr nín_ , I beg you," Laivindil said. "The _aranel_ will not be pleased if I should allow you to come to harm."

"I must see Tauriel. Will you take me to her?" Bard asked.

Laivindil looked up at him. "Sire, I would do so in an instant if not for two things: One, Tauriel is resting, for she has had a terrible upset. Second, you are in no condition to apologize to her for being the cause of it. You are weak, your skin pale and covered in perspiration."

Bard reached up to touch his brow, and indeed there was moisture there. It also disturbed him that this young woman whom he had just met was aware of the discord between himself and Tauriel.

He sighed, and with a last looked toward Tauriel's closed door, he reluctantly allowed himself to be led back through his own. Laivindil walked him over to his bed and eased him down onto it. She glanced at the bowl of soup on his bedside table as he lay back against the pillow.

"It does not help your recovery to refuse to eat, _hîr nín_ ," she scolded him lightly. Laivindil then went to the window and took the chair he had been sitting in and brought it to the side of the bed. She then sat and reached for the bowl of cooling soup, filling the spoon and holding it out to him.

Bard chuckled. "Do you mean to feed me?"

Laivindil smiled. "I shall," she insisted. "It is my duty to heal the sick."

Feeling suddenly too weak and tired to argue, Bard allowed her to put the spoon to his lips. He took all of it, which seemed to please her, before asking, "So you're a healer?"

She nodded as she raised another spoonful. "Lord Elrond of Imladris taught me many things," she said. "I may have little of the magic of the Elves in my blood, but I have all their knowledge of medicine in my memory."

He took the mouthful dutifully. "Dale could use a dedicated healer. We've not had one since Lake-town was destroyed, and have relied on what Tauriel was able to show us in order to heal our sick and wounded."

Laivindil smiled again. " _Hiril nín_ is gifted, I'll grant that, but there is so much more to learn than she knows."

"Would you consider staying with us?" he asked after the third spoonful had been swallowed.

The expression on her face turned solemn. "I go where the _aranel_ goes," she said.

Another spoonful. "What does that mean?"

Laivindil raised an eyebrow. "It means that should Lady Tauriel be turned away by you or choose to leave of her own accord, I will go with her. I have sworn fealty to her service."

Once again her words disturbed him, and for a time he said nothing as he accepted each spoonful of soup she fed him. After a few minutes, he asked her to tell him her story, how she came to bear an Elvish name and be raised by them. She spoke of the couple who had reared her as their own simply as her parents, as she had no memory of the ones who had birthed her. She told him the story of her adoption as it had been told to her, and he was greatly intrigued.

"To the Elves of Lórien, I owe my life," she concluded.

"Then why pledge your service to Tauriel?" Bard asked.

Laivindil set the now-empty bowl on the tray. "The Lady Galadriel bade me do so," she said. "She said she had seen that Tauriel would have need of me, and so she did. We were visiting in the halls of Lord Thranduil when the Lords Bain and Thorin came to seek aid in fighting the flush."

"So it was you who knew how to cure the flush?"

She nodded. "The cillin I used is derived from a moss which grows only on mallorn trees, which themselves exist only in the realm of Lothlórien. I had brought a quantity of it with us in my store of medicines. I also had some dried moss from the trees of my home should I need to make more."

"It would be fortunate for us if we had those trees here in Dale," Bard observed.

Laivindil smiled. "Perhaps when next I am in Lórien, I shall make a request of the Lady of Light to gift us with a mallorn nut, or at least allow me to collect more of the moss."

He looked at her steadily. "And when will you next find yourself there?"

She smiled as she stood and, after moving the chair out of the way, collected the tray Tauriel had brought. "That, _hîr nín_ , depends entirely on you."


	59. Chapter 59

**The truth shall set you free...**

* * *

For two weeks following their confrontation, Bard and Tauriel studiously avoided each other.

Through the bond they shared, each was aware of the hurt they had caused the other. Both were sorry for what they'd done and wished to make amends…but neither seemed entirely sure how to go about setting things right, not with the pain still so fresh in their minds.

So they kept out of each other's way. For Tauriel, that meant keeping to her room or spending time in the courtyard when she desired fresh air. A few times, she went to the stables to see Thêllenn, but she did not stay long. She was polite, of course, whenever she encountered one of the children, Halia, or even Bard himself. He knew that each time he saw her, she wanted to speak, to say anything that would reduce or even take away the heartache she had caused. But he sensed she was certain nothing she said would be good enough, so she said nothing at all. Tauriel would nod mutely and either walk past him or turn around and walk back the direction she had come.

Bard also knew that she believed he did not _want_ to see her. She was beginning to believe that he no longer loved her. She was wrong, but… How could he make her see how much he loved her when how angry he was resurfaced every time he saw her face? He wanted to tell her he regretted his harsh words, but at the same time he knew that she was aware he'd had every right to say them. To feel the way he did.

He also knew that he was, eventually, going to have to speak to her. At first, he, too, had kept to his own bedchamber. But the fact that he was getting well meant that even as distracted as he was by Tauriel's return, he had a city to run. There were numerous matters that required his attention—Peder and Peri had been granted leave to see to the management of Dale during his illness, but he was still the man in charge. Recovering from the flush meant that it was time he got back to work.

Thus, once Laivindil had released him from restriction, he spent much of his time out of the manor at the Great Hall, or moving about the city as repairs to empty homes and other buildings continued. Most days he did not return home until it was time for the evening meal. At supper, he secretly wished to see Tauriel in the seat that had become hers by default prior to the expedition: at the end of the table opposite him.

But she did not join the family for dinner after the first night everyone had sat together once Bard and Sigrid were well enough to join them. An awkward silence had descended over the table, broken only by the sounds their silverware made when hitting their plates. The next night, as the family gathered to eat, Laivindil had delivered a message from Tauriel saying that she would be taking her dinner in her room. He'd thought it was just for the one night, but when she declined to join them the next few nights, Bard had known immediately why. It was the same reason he spent his entire day away from the house:

They both wanted and yet dreaded having to speak to one another.

At the end of the second week, when Tauriel again declined to join them for supper, Tilda huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Where's Tauriel?" she asked. "Surely she remembers when we take supper."

Laivindil—who had been staying in the manor at his invitation—flicked her gazed from Tilda to Bard, who raised a questioning brow even as the young woman turned a light smile his daughter's way. "I'm afraid the _aranel_ is not feeling very well this evening, my Lady. I'll take a tray to her later."

This was not the usual excuse the healer gave for her mistress's absence, and Bard frowned. "Not well? Are she and the child all right?"

The healer nodded. "They are both quite healthy, _hîr nín_. However, the last several days have taken a toll on her and her _fëa_ is weary. She just needs some rest."

"What does ' _fëa_ ' mean?" asked Sigrid. "Tauriel taught us some Sindarin, but I don't recall that word."

" _Fëa_ is the Sindarin word for 'spirit'—it refers to the soul," Laivindil replied.

Recalling that Galadriel had said a fading of the spirit could lead an elf to die, Bard felt alarm shoot through him.

 _Do not worry_ , came Tauriel's mental voice, surprising him that she'd chosen to speak to him at all. _I just need to rest_.

 _That's what Laivindil just told us_ , he replied. _You are certain you and the child are well?_

There was a pause, and then, _I am just a little tired, although our child does not seem to be aware—he or she has decided to be quite active this evening_.

Bard could not help but smile at that, in turn drawing curious looks from the children.

"Da?" Sigrid queried.

He looked to her. "Tauriel has just informed me that in spite of her desire to rest, the child she carries is wide awake."

" _Your_ child, Da," Tilda pointed out, a frown on her face. "Our brother or sister—you do believe that, don't you?"

"Whatever her reasons for leaving, I do not think she would lie about that," Sigrid added. "You did lay with her, did you not?"

"Sigrid!" Bain admonished her sharply, while Bard felt the heat of embarrassment flush his skin. "That's none of your business."

"I disagree, Bain. It is our business if she's claiming to be Da's wife and says her child is his."

Clearing his throat, Bard said, "Yes, Sigrid, I did. And no, I do not think she would speak falsely as to whom the child was sired by. But given many months have passed, learning that I am to be a father again is a rather overwhelming concept. I am still adjusting to the news, that is all."

"How did Tauriel say anything at all to you, when she is in a room at the back of the house?" Sigrid pressed.

Her father suppressed a sigh. "Tauriel and I… We have what she called a _fëa_ bond. I cannot explain it to you as I do not even fully understand it. Suffice it to say, my dear girl, it allows us to communicate in silence when we are near to one another."

"Fascinating," Laivindil said.

Bard looked to her. "Why do you say that?"

"Because thought-speak is a rare gift, even among bonded elves," she replied. "That the _aranel_ was able to create such a connection with a mortal is exceptional."

"The Lady Galadriel is able to thought-speak with mortals—she spoke to both Gudmund and myself, and neither of us is bonded to her."

Laivindil smiled. "Clearly, _hîr nín_ ," she said. "But then, the Lady of Light is more than eight thousand years old. She was born in Valinor, and a great many elves who were birthed there before Morgoth and Ungoliant destroyed the Two Trees were blessed with powerful gifts."

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "The _aranel_ 's grandfather was once hailed as the most gifted musician of all the Eldar, and he was also a great warrior before he fell from grace—perhaps he is still. It is likely much of the power and prowess Lady Tauriel possesses was inherited from him."

"Her grandfather?" Bard said with another frown. "Tauriel never made mention of her family beyond her mother and father, of whom she said she had little memory."

"And why do you keep calling her ' _aranel_ '?" asked Tilda. "What does that mean?"

The Dúnadan's cheeks flushed with color. "Forgive me, but I should say no more. The answers to those questions ought come from Tauriel herself."

Bain snorted. "Why am I not surprised? There are even more questions and no answers. When is she going to explain herself and what she did to my father?"

Laivindil's eyes narrowed in anger. Bard opened his mouth to speak but had not the chance.

"You watch your tongue, young man!" she said sharply.

"Laivindil—" Bard began, but was interrupted by Bain.

"'Young man'? I'm older than you are, I'd wager—"

"No, you're not. I am to be twenty-five next month—you are not yet sixteen."

Bain scowled. "Be that as it may, this is my home and I shall say whatever I like. You weren't here for the hell her leaving put my father and sisters through—"

"And you weren't there for the hell _she_ went through," Laivindil snapped. "For one thing, she was nearly killed by the same orcs and goblins that slew her horse. She learned her parents might well have lied to her about who she was, she had to break her best friend's heart—"

"You mean Legolas?" Bard queried.

"Yes. His Highness was in Rivendell, where the skill of Lord Elrond and the magic of Lady Ranárë saved her life and that of your child."

She turned a piercing gaze back to Bain. "My Lady is not unaware that her actions have caused you all pain, a knowledge that beset her with great anguish—"

" _Pedo unta elc_ , Laivindil."

Everyone at the table started at the sound of Tauriel's voice—no one had seen or heard her enter. The _elleth_ walked to where Laivindil sat and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her smile was thin as she said, "I am very grateful to you for your loyalty and quickness to defend me, _mellon nín_ , but the time for that is over. It is up to me to explain myself to my family, and it is up to them to forgive me or not. Forgiveness and understanding are mercies that must be earned, they cannot be forced."

Her eyes found Bard's then, and for a brief moment he saw there—and felt, though she tried to keep it from him—a sharp spike of fear. She was afraid, he knew, that no matter what she said they would give her no quarter.

And she believed that she was deserving of their derision even as she hoped for their acceptance. The raw vulnerability he sensed in her disturbed him.

Bard stifled a sigh as she turned her gaze away and moved around the table to take the last empty seat. He could not stop the sense of completion that flashed through him to once more observe her in her usual place. That one hand absently rubbed a circle on the swell of her stomach brought a smile to his face.

A smile ghosted across Tauriel's countenance then, telling him she'd felt his joy, before she took a deep breath in preparation to speak. She told them little of her trek through the mountains save that she had never felt more alone. When she described being chased by the orcs and goblins, and how she now bore four new scars from the poisoned arrows that had struck her, his daughters gasped and looked between them.

"That's why you were so sick," Sigrid said. "That morning before Edoras, when you had to lay in the back of the wagon—it wasn't food poisoning, was it?"

Bard shook his head slowly. "No, it was not. The connection between Tauriel and I runs very deep."

"I'm sorry, Bard."

He felt her anguish over the pain he had suffered and he looked down the table at her, noting that her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

"I did not know you would be affected," Tauriel said. "Our bond was so new, and we were so far apart. I had done so much damage to our l—"

She paused and sniffled, blinking her eyes rapidly as though to dispel the tears. One escaped despite her efforts and she reached quickly to wipe it away.

She then took another deep breath and resumed her narrative. Bard soon got the feeling that she was leaving no detail unsaid as she spoke of her recovery in Rivendell. She spoke of the people she had met there—including Elrond and his sons, Legolas, a female wizard (Ranárë, whom Laivindil had mentioned earlier), and the man she now knew was her grandfather: the former kinslayer, Maglor. Her relation to the Ñoldorin prince, she explained, was how she had earned the _epessë_ _Aranel_ , which she told them meant 'princess' in Quenya. She told them what it had felt like to learn that Arwen and her brothers were also her kin, and of the realization that the woman who had led her astray was as well.

Tauriel recounted how the letter her grandfather had left her prior to his departure had finally made her see that running away had not been the answer.

"So I came back," she said at last. "I knew that whether or not you all welcomed me—if you even wanted me to come back—I at least owed you the chance to know the life your father and I created. I will never be able to truly express how sorry I am to each of you—especially you, _meleth nín_."

Tears slipped down her cheeks again and she abruptly stood. Bard stood as well—despite how angry her leaving had made him, he could no longer bear to see her so upset. He had taken but one step toward her when Bain's voice stopped him.

"You forgot one thing," the boy said, his tone sharp.

"Bain, please don't," Sigrid pleaded.

"No, Sig," he countered. "She's told us what she was up to while she was away. She's told us what made her come back."

Bard watched his son's gaze dart between him and Tauriel as he leaned forward and said, "But she has yet to tell us why she _left_."

Tauriel's eyes widened as fear and anxiety spiked within her. Bard could feel her fighting for control, to keep him from feeling what she was feeling…to keep him from seeing the vivid flashes of memory.

 _Do not shut me out again, I beg you_ , he pleaded with her silently.

Her gaze as she looked to him was haunted. _Bard, no. I have already caused you enough pain. I will not burden you with mine as well—it is a sorrow no one should be made to endure_.

 _Galadriel said she believed the mirror had shown you my death_.

 _It did_ , she replied. _You cannot ask me to show you that—no one should ever have to see such a thing_.

"Show me what you have seen," he pressed.

Tauriel shook her head. "I have no desire to hurt you further—"

Bard walked over to her. "Then don't. I do not know what the customs are between Elvish spouses, but among my people, when a man and a woman choose to marry they agree to share everything—including pain and sorrow."

She was fighting the desire to give in to his demand; he sensed that she wished to be free of the burden she carried but believed the future was something not everyone should know of. There was a strong sense of her wishing she had never seen it, for she believed she'd never have run if she had not.

At long last, she turned her eyes to Bain. "Dear child, do you really want to know the truth?"

"I do. We all deserve to know."

Bard watched Tauriel smile sadly. "When you fall in love someday, Bain—and I've no doubt you will—I want you to take a moment and imagine what it would be like to watch the woman you love die. To watch her waste away, to be with her as her _fëa_ leaves her _hröa_ and escapes the confines of this world. To listen as she takes her last breath. Imagine what that will do to you, how it will rend your own soul into shreds and leave you feeling as though there is absolutely nothing left in this world worth living for, not even your own children."

The image flashed into Bard's mind then: of himself old and gray and withered, and Tauriel appearing as splendidly beautiful as she did now, her still-strong hand holding his frail one to her tear-slicked cheek as his chest rose and fell…and then rose no more. The depth of her despair was staggering, enough to feel to him as a blow to the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

"I have already watched one man I love die before my very eyes, when I was helpless to stop it. I cannot do that again, Bain."

Tauriel turned her tearful gaze back to Bard. "Now you know why I ran away. I love you so much that I cannot—that I will not—live without you."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Pedo unta elc_ \- Say (lit. "speak") nothing else

 _hröa_ \- body


	60. Chapter 60

There was naught he could do but draw her to him.

Bard wrapped his arms around Tauriel in a tight embrace, as though holding her would chase her demons away. How he wished he could.

 _I am so sorry_ , he told her silently. _I wish you had not gone through that alone. I would have helped you, my darling_.

 _How?_ she thought in return as she cried into his shoulder.

 _I do not know_ , Bard confessed. _Still, had you stayed and told me what you had seen, I'd have done what I could to allay your fears. You should not have borne this burden on your own_.

 _I am so sorry, Bard. I did not mean to break your heart, but watching you die broke mine into pieces. It will yet do so, unless_ …

 _Unless what?_

She shared with him the only hope she had, and though the idea was one he could not yet wrap his mind around, he told her they would discuss it at length at a later time. That he was willing to consider it seemed to bring her some small measure of peace, and Bard sighed contentedly as her arms found their way around him at last.

"I'm sorry, Tauriel."

She turned her head on his shoulder to look at his son as a solemn-faced Bain said, "I regret being cross with you, for clearly you have suffered a great deal."

Tauriel lifted her head, "No, _ion nín_ , you were right to be angry. I gave you no reason to feel otherwise."

She looked to the girls then, and Bard felt her anguish over their tears. He had thought more than once that he ought make her understand what her leaving had done to them—how Tilda had cried herself to sleep every night for two weeks—but found that he no longer had a desire to inflict that pain upon her. He could not bring himself to be so cruel as to wish her more than she'd already endured.

" _Bain sellath nín_ , do not weep," Tauriel said. "I have none but myself to blame for my heartache."

She drew a ragged breath then and stepped back as she looked up at him; Bard already missed feeling her warmth. "Though it was necessary for me to speak of all this, doing so has robbed me of what little strength I possessed. I beg your pardon, but I must go back to my rest now."

He snagged her hand as she made to step past him. "I will go with you," he said.

"Bard, you don't—"

"I will go with you," Bard insisted, and seeing he would not yield, she nodded.

Lacing their fingers together, he led her through the halls toward the back of the manor, though instead of walking her to her door, he stopped before his.

"What are you doing?" Tauriel asked.

"I am taking my wife to bed," he replied simply as he pushed the door open wider and pulled her inside. When the door was shut behind them, he took her to the bed and told her to lie down—though her expression showed a desire to protest, her drained emotional state would clearly not allow it and she complied, laying back with a weary sigh. Bard skirted the end of the bed and climbed in on the opposite side, softly urging her to lift her head that she might use his arm for a pillow. Tauriel surprised him by rolling so that she faced him, her right arm snaking across his chest as she laid her head on his shoulder.

 _Long have I desired to lay with you this way_ , Bard thought as he wrapped his arms around her.

 _Long have I desired the same_ , she replied. _I'm so sorry that I ruined everything. I'll never be able to say it enough_.

 _You have ruined nothing, my darling_ , he told her, and smiled as a small surge of happiness danced through her at his use of the endearment. It pleased her so much to hear him speak it once more, though he sensed a hesitation in her joy.

"I am still so afraid," she confessed. "I wish I was stronger, Bard, but I am not. Losing Kíli damaged me more irreparably than I could have imagined. You deserve a better mate than one so broken as I."

"Hush now," Bard told her, giving her a gentle squeeze. "I'll hear no more of that. No damage has been done to our love that we cannot repair."

Tauriel sniffled, and a wetness beneath her head told him she was crying again. "I do not deserve your forgiveness."

"And yet you have it. I will not deny that the pain of your departure still lingers within me, but having you back here—in my arms, where you belong—assuages that pain every moment you stay."

He moved one hand to the mound of her stomach. The baby chose that moment to give a hefty kick, causing them both to gasp. Tauriel looked up at him and he smiled down at her.

 _Do you wish for a boy or a girl?_ he asked silently.

 _I've not thought about it much, to be honest. So often my thoughts have been of you, and my despair at leaving you. I believed there was no chance I could ever reclaim what we had begun_. _As such,_ _I was unsure how I could ever be a good mother when I had been such a poor example of a wife_.

 _I was not precisely a shining example of a husband_ , he told her. _I could have followed you, and I did not_.

 _Bard, you had the company to think of. Your children, the people here in Dale. You did only what was right—you moved on without me_.

"I did not move on," Bard said aloud. "I thought of you every single day. I missed you every single day."

"You were angry at me every single day," Tauriel observed.

"I was," he conceded. "But more than that I loved you—I never stopped loving you. Though at times I despaired of ever seeing you again, I never stopped praying that one day you would come home to me."

"I never stopped praying you would want me to. I feared to return because I knew it would mean I had to accept your anger, that I would have to accept it if you turned me away. And I had to accept that even if you welcomed my return, I might not be able to stay."

Bard understood that she meant she could not—would not—be able to bring that vision of the future into being. If he did not do as she hoped he would, Tauriel would one day leave again, and there would be no coming back.

 _Tauriel, I would have you live when I die. Do not give in to your despair_.

 _Though my soul will still be torn when your death comes_ , she said, _my only chance of survival would be to leave before it happens_.

 _Your leaving would surely break me. Living the rest of my days without you does not appeal to me in the slightest—I would likely die of a broken heart before I've a chance to die of old age_.

He sighed then. "It seems there is but one choice before me—I must do as you would have me. But I will need time, Tauriel. There is still so much I have to do."

"I know, _meleth nín_ ," she said softly.

Lifting her chin so that her eyes met his, Bard asked, "Will you stay with me until the time comes? Be my wife, Tauriel. My queen. Be mother to my children, to the child inside you and what others may come."

A smile formed slowly on her lips, and Tauriel raised a hand to caress his face. "I will stay. I love you, Bard—I never stopped loving you."

* * *

In the days and weeks following her confession, Tauriel spent much of her time reconnecting with Bard and his children, with Halia and her adopted children, with the people in Dale. Everyone wanted to know why she had left, where she had been, why she came back.

Of the first question, she said only that she had left because she had to. When it became clear she would not elaborate further, they were forced to accept what little explanation she had given. Of the second question, she spoke freely of her time in Rivendell, and with many, some of the wonder at what the Elven refuge was like and how it differed from Mirkwood or Lothlórien put off their desire to learn more about why she had gone. Curiosity became her friend, as her travels on her return journey—she came back, she explained, because Bard was going to be a father and he had a right to know his child—were also of great interest.

Though she still often received curious stares whenever she left the manor, within a week the questions ceased, for which she was glad. She had long grown weary of having to explain herself over and over, despite knowing she had only herself to blame. Even having accepted she would need to redeem herself in their eyes, answering the people's probing questions had become tiresome.

It helped that she had been the one—though indirectly—to bring the cure for the flush. Had she not been in Rivendell, she would not have met Laivindil, who had discovered the cure. Her having been born to the Dúnedain yet raised by elves seemed to fascinate the townspeople. Tirinwë and Ceridwen were besieged with many questions as well, though they had a great deal more patience than Tauriel and happily answered them all. Like Bard, the people hoped that Laivindil would stay with them, for they were clearly in need of a healer.

Having seen for herself that her mistress and Bard were on the path to mending their relationship, Laivindil declared she would remain in Dale. That decision made, she spent half a day searching for a location in which to set up a proper healer's hall, and settled on an old manor house similar to the one in which Bard and his family lived. Though she made regular visits to the homes of the sick to monitor the progress of their recovery, much of her time was spent cleaning the old house and setting it up for use as a hospital. Gildan, who had been on the team of healers that accompanied her to Dale, was a tremendous help in that regard.

At the end of the first week of Tauriel's return, Melvar informed her he was leaving. "It's time I got back to my duties," he said, and Tauriel wished him well. He was given enough food to last him a few days and a small pouch of gold and silver coins to pay for any provisions he might need to purchase on his return journey to the west.

Tirinwë and Ceridwen had originally planned to travel with Melvar, but much to their daughter's delight, decided to stay in the city another week. They helped her with the setting up of her new workplace and spent some time in the barracks' training yard as well, working out with the city's few soldiers. When at last they, too, departed for their home, the healer's parting with her parents was bittersweet, for she knew not when she might see them again.

* * *

Tauriel was surprised one afternoon when Halia took her into her room and showed her a dress she had been working on; it was, in fact, near completion. The gown was a beautiful shift of white brocade satin overlaid with lace, with a waistline that was set just under the bust and a scooped neckline that would show but a tease of décolletage. The sleeves tied from the elbow down and there was a sort of cape at the shoulders made of lace that ended in a short train that would trail on the floor.

"It's very lovely, Halia," she said, admiring the craftsmanship. "Isn't this made from some of the material you bought in Mirkwood?"

Halia nodded, a broad smile upon her face. "Aye, my Lady. The satin I purchased from your kin, though the lace is from Gondor."

Tauriel turned to her. "If I may, why do you settle for a life as a housekeeper when you have such talent with dress-making?"

The other woman laughed. "My Lady, just because a woman can wield a needle and thread does not mean she wishes to do so for a living. I did what sewing needed done for my husband and son when they were with me, and will naturally do more for the three new children gifted me by the Valar. I'll do so for Lord Bard and the children and you as I serve you all as housekeeper. Other than that…"

She shrugged then and Tauriel laughed. After giving the dress a last appreciative look, she turned to go, saying, "It really is exceptional work, Halia. Thank you for showing it to me."

"I'm making it for you."

Tauriel froze. "For me? Certainly you would not, as I was gone for months and have only been returned for the passing of a moon."

Halia shrugged again, though she wore a grin. "My Lady, I've been planning this dress since I saw you kiss Lord Bard that first time. And while it is true there was a time I feared I might never have need to make it, I began work on it the very night you came home to us. I've spent every spare moment I could scratch together making this dress for you…though I _did_ have to alter my original design to compensate for the child."

Tears of happiness and disbelief stung her eyes as Tauriel asked, "But why? For what occasion would I have need to wear such an elaborate gown?"

"Why, for your wedding, of course," the other woman replied. "I know you say you and Lord Bard are already married by the customs of your people, but surely you'll have a Dalish ceremony as well?"

A flash of memory came to her then—Tauriel recalled such a ceremony as one of the visions from Galadriel's mirror. Only she'd not been heavy with child then, and the dress she'd been wearing had not been white.

 _The future is not always as it appears at first glance, it would seem_ , she thought. Of course, she had changed since seeing that glimpse of the future. She had likely made decisions that had diverted her from the original path. If she had changed that one thing, surely she could change another?

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _ion nín_ \- my son

 _bain sellath_ _nín_ \- my beautiful daughters


	61. Chapter 61

**A brief description of sexual activity occurs at the end of this chapter. Not nearly as explicit (and even that one wasn't really) as the first love scene, but thought I'd warn you anyway.**

* * *

"I…I do not know," Tauriel said at last.

She reached out and fingered the fine lace with a faint smile, adding, "Bard and I have not discussed it. This last fortnight I have spent trying to fix what I broke."

The smile she received in response was sympathetic. "I understand—but think on it, won't you? No matter what you and Lord Bard decide, I shall certainly finish it."

"Thank you, Halia. You really are too kind to do such a thing."

On impulse, Tauriel reached out and drew the other woman into her arms. Halia gave a little laugh and returned the embrace heartily.

"You are most welcome, my Lady," she said, then laughed again as she felt the baby move. "Sure is an active one you have there."

Tauriel's smile was wry as little flutters of movement tickled her. "As though I were not already aware," she quipped. "This _gwinig_ chooses the strangest moments to make him- or herself known—and it's usually at night, or any other time I desire to rest."

Halia grinned. "That, madam, is a trait all babes seem to develop. My Halid did the same to me many times as I carried him, and countless mams-to-be in Lake-town had the same complaint."

The _elleth_ began to rub a circle over where she believed the baby's head to be, which she had found often settled the child. "This one also seems to enjoy the sound of his or her _ada_ 's voice," she said with a smile. "Whenever Bard speaks, the _gwinig_ will crowd to the side of my womb on whichever side of me he is located, as though desiring to be nearer to him."

The housekeeper's smile widened. "Have you spoken of this to him?"

Tauriel shook her head. "Not as yet. I've only just noticed it in the last day or so."

"Well, tonight when you take your rest together, tell him about it. I found that it helped my husband feel closer to our child the more I involved him."

"I will do that," she replied, then with one last look at the near-completed gown, made her way out of Halia's room.

As the thought of a wedding was now at the forefront of her mind, it was no surprise that Bard soon responded to her thoughts.

 _You keep thinking of a wedding and a white dress. Why is that, might I ask?_

 _Where are you?_

 _In the study_ , he replied.

 _I'll be there shortly_ , Tauriel replied, changing direction in the foyer to head for the room Bard had made his office. When she arrived, the door was ajar and she opened it slowly, and found herself smiling at just the sight of him.

Bard looked up. "Thank goodness you are here. I find myself in need of a distraction."

"I am pleased to be of service to you, _hîr nín_ ," she said as she entered and made to sit in the single visitor's chair across from him.

"Don't sit there," Bard said.

Tauriel's first reaction was to frown, then she saw him holding his hand out to her and she smiled. Standing straight, she made her way around the desk and allowed him to pull her into his lap. She slipped an arm across his shoulders as he reached one of his own around her lower back, the other he lifted to rest his hand on the swell of her stomach.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

Bard looked into her eyes. "For being here. I mean not to dwell on what is past, but I was truly miserable without you. Just seeing your face every day brings me happiness—seeing you full with my child doubles that joy."

Tears stung her eyes as she touched her temple to his. "I am so sorry. I cannot say it enough, it seems. I know I did not think of you or the children when I ran away, Bard. I didn't really think at all—I couldn't. I only felt that I had to get away from the source of my pain. By the Valar, I should never have looked into that stupid mirror."

"It's quite all right now," Bard said softly, rubbing a circle on her belly as the baby moved again. "Though I have been angry for many months, I do not wish to dwell in that anger. Doing so would serve no purpose but to create more misery for us both. I understand now that you were overwhelmed; still somewhat raw from having lost your first love, it no longer surprises me that you ran when faced with my death."

"I saw it again," Tauriel said, pushing to her feet as the memory came to her once more—as if putting distance between them would prevent his seeing and feeling what she was. But of course it did not, as Bard's sharp intake of breath told her.

She stopped before the window, which looked out onto the street, and wrapped her arms around herself. Her mind did not register the cobblestone road or the off-white brick of the nearby homes—she was back on that ledge, battered and weak and utterly helpless to do anything but watch as the pointed end of Bolg's mace pierced Kíli's chest.

His head turned and his eyes found hers. They were full of sorrow and heartbreak for what he knew now would never be, those beautiful chocolate brown eyes, and a tear escaped the corner of the left one as he exhaled his last breath and his eyelids fell closed, never to open again.

A pair of warm, strong arms wound around her. Tauriel felt Bard's love and concern and even sympathy flow across their bond as his lips touched her cheek.

"Every night for two months after the battle," she began, her voice weak, "I was forced to relive that moment. There were times in my waking hours I would close my eyes and see that look on his face."

Tauriel drew a breath and loosed it slowly. "But every time I wanted to join him—every single time I felt like giving up, that it just wasn't worth the effort to keep living…you were there.

She turned in Bard's arms then, wanting—needing—to look into his eyes as she told him what was on her mind and in her heart. She lifted her hands to his face and held it gently, her voice full of emotion as she said, "You were there for me, Bard, when it felt as though I had no one. You never left me alone for too long, finding one reason or another to see me, to speak with me. You gave me a home, you gave me a purpose… Bard, you gave me a reason to _live_. You saved my life.

"And that is why I cannot live without you. I now believe that you and I were bound together long before we fell in love."

Tauriel remembered then—they both did—what she had seen in Galadriel's mirror. Every memory it had shown her, the good and the bad. Every emotion she had felt. Bard saw and felt each and every one of them, and he truly knew her anguish as she had been forced to relive Kíli's death having so recently made her peace with it, only to be confronted with his yet to come.

He drew her against his chest then, his arms tightening around her as his head came to rest against her own.

 _Now you truly know everything that drove me to run_ , she thought. _It was not because I did not love you, or that your love was not enough. It's just that_ …

 _That our life essences are so entwined we can neither of us live without the other. Even were you to leave here before I die, you would feel my passing and still perish_.

 _You're probably right_ , Tauriel returned with a ragged sigh. _I know I should not have run, but at the same time I had to. Galadriel, as much as I despise her for her part in this, helped me to see that only by running away would I have gone to Rivendell_.

"Where you met with Elrond, who gave you hope."

She nodded, then tipped her head back and looked into Bard's now tortured gaze. She hated to have been the cause of yet more heartache, but also could not help the sense of relief that had washed over her to have finally shared everything with him. To know that he understood.

Now she needed to. "Show me," she told him.

Bard frowned. "Show you what?"

"Everything that happened while I was gone. Show me, Bard," she pressed, sensing his hesitation. "Husbands and wives share everything, remember? How shall I live with myself if I beg your forgiveness without knowing fully everything for which I should ask it? It is not right that you shoulder my burdens as well as your own. Not when it comes to this."

"My darling, I do not wish to cause you more suffering," he said slowly. "Though once I desired you to know our pain, I'm a better man than that. I'll not hurt you because you hurt me."

She gave him a wry smile. "I love you for not desiring to intentionally wound me, for all the compassion and forgiveness and understanding you and the children have already given to me. But I cannot allow you to suffer my pain and not take responsibility for that which I caused."

Bard studied her for a long moment and then sighed. "How do I show you?" he asked.

"You need only recall something and our bond will replay your memories for me as it did mine for you."

He nodded reluctantly, but took another breath and closed his eyes. Tauriel did the same as the first images came to her. She saw what he had been doing when he first felt her distress. How her experience with the mirror had affected him as it was happening. She witnessed the tears of his daughters, the anger of his son, the confusion of his people. His own heartbreak. She felt every moment of his pain, every time he both loved her and loathed her in equal measure.

She knew the mixture of joy and disbelief he felt upon seeing her for the first time in months, how his fevered state had led him to think he was only dreaming. She felt the surge of anger that had overridden his desire to sweep her into his arms the day they'd argued, and his regret at being so callous. She witnessed his encounter with Dorna and was not remiss to his amusement at the spike of jealousy that rose within her when the other woman kissed him.

And at last, Tauriel felt the fear, the anguish, the curiosity—even pride—when she had confessed all to his family.

"Now there is nothing more between us," Bard said softly as he as he wiped away the tears she had shed. He then pressed his lips to hers. "Nothing but these clothes we wear."

She laughed even as desire was kindled by his words. " _Meleth nín_ , it is the middle of the day."

"So?" he retorted, reaching behind her to pull the curtain over the window. "Desire has no regard for the time of day, and it has been far too long since I was last inside you."

Heat flared in her loins and she felt her breasts begin to ache, her nipples already begging for his touch. "Shall we go to the bedroom then?"

Bard grinned salaciously as he backed away, then turned and quickly strode over to the door and threw the lock into place. "What need have we for a bed when I can take you here?" he said, moving back to her and pulling her toward the desk.

He turned her so that she was facing it and stood behind her. "Lean across the desk, my darling," he whispered as he reached around her and under her tunic for the tie of her trousers.

Tauriel did as instructed, bracing herself on her forearms as Bard first pushed her garments down and then quickly unfastened his own. When he was free of them, he stroked her a few times before slipping inside her and showing her that there was _definitely_ no need for a bed.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _gwinig_ \- baby


	62. Chapter 62

**Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I had to fight the holidays and a bit of writer's block, but I think I'm good now. Going to be going back to the once-a-week updates because the story's very nearly caught up to where I am in the writing. Yep, story's not quite finished yet. I'd hoped to have it done before the end of 2015, but as you can see that didn't happen. I will, however, be endeavoring to finish it up in the next couple of months so that I can move on to the next Forgotten Tale.**

 **In this chapter, Tauriel is happy and Dorna does something incredibly...stupid.**

* * *

Tauriel smiled brightly as she wandered through the market.

She and Bard had made love many times since that day in his study, reconnecting their bodies as well as their hearts. Neither felt happier than when they were together.

When at last she got around to telling him about the white dress, he had readily agreed with Halia—they should indeed have a Dalish ceremony. Though neither felt the need for it, Tauriel had agreed that a wedding would satisfy the people of Dale that they were, in fact, husband and wife. Bard had also made the comment that the people could use something to celebrate after all they had been through since the dragon had driven them off the lake.

So plans were underway for the first wedding to take place in Dale in nearly 200 years. The date had been chosen—October 20th. It was the day Smaug had come, which Tauriel had thought the people might take exception to. But Bard had disagreed, saying that he chose that date because it was the day she had come into his life by seeing his children spared from the dragon's wrath. In the end he won, because she didn't want to argue over so small a detail.

Once news had spread they were to be married according to Dalish custom, Tauriel was surprised there was not a single protest as to when they had decided to have the ceremony. The people seemed to just be happy for them—happy, as Bard had said, to have a reason to celebrate. Hilda Bianca, who'd given up growing herbs to run an inn, even told her that "Honestly, we'd rather celebrate life and new beginnings than commemorate death and destruction."

Hearing that, the elf fretted no more over the date of her wedding.

Today she was traveling the stalls and shops in the market—though there were still few, Dale's citizens were giving it their all to bring the city alive again—looking for gifts for Bard's children. She wanted to find something meaningful for each she could give to them at the wedding that would symbolize how much she had come to care for them.

A jeweler that had relocated from Dorwinion, who'd managed to purchase some precious metals and gemstones from Erebor for his work, was showing her a lovely necklace that Tauriel thought Sigrid might like. The pendant was a sapphire about the size of a cherry but shaped like a teardrop. The end of each prong of the setting was capped with a tiny diamond—six in all—and it hung from a delicate silver chain.

"Tauriel?"

Fighting the stiffness that crept into her back, Tauriel turned at the sound of Dorna's voice. "Hello, Dorna," she said politely.

"H-how are you? How are Bard and the children?"

Knowing what had transpired her last day in the manor, Tauriel kept her own expression neutral and her tone even as she replied, "We're doing quite well, thank you."

Dorna's eyes flicked to her stomach. Tauriel was five months pregnant—soon she would be halfway through her pregnancy—and the baby was growing steadily. Her size had increased since her return to Dale and she could no longer wear trousers and tunics. Much to Bard's apparent delight, she had found simple gowns easier to dress herself in. Though she had purchased two from a dressmaker, Halia had taken great pleasure in being asked to make more as her pregnancy progressed.

"I shall do even more than that," she'd said. "I shall make you a whole wardrobe for once the babe is born. You're to be a queen after all, my Lady. Best you start dressing the part."

Though the thought of becoming Dale's queen was intimidating, she'd had to admit the housekeeper was right. She could no longer content herself with wearing tunics and trousers and her leather armor day in and day out—though she would get away with doing so occasionally, she knew her days of being the carefree Captain of the Guard were over. Mother, wife, and queen were to be her roles now.

"The baby's getting big, isn't it?" Dorna said.

Despite her discomfort at conversing with the other woman, Tauriel smiled. "Yes, he certainly is."

"You know it's a boy, then?"

She shook her head. "We won't know until the _gwinig_ is born, of course. But it seems so much easier to say 'he' rather than having to say 'he or she' all the time. Besides, I think I'd like to give Bard another fine son."

Dorna smiled. "No doubt Bard would take great delight in having another son."

She cleared her throat then. "Listen, I've had a lot of time to think about things, and I… Well, I wanted to say I'm sorry. For the way I acted when you came back. For so many other things. It's clear to me now that I was being a fool, and that Bard loves you very much. He's forgiven you for leaving him and you're getting married, after all, and having a child together. No one has the right to interfere with that."

Some of her tension eased and Tauriel smiled again. "Thank you, Dorna. I appreciate your saying that."

"Excuse me, my Lady," said the jeweler. "But would you like to purchase the necklace?"

She turned back to him. "Oh yes, of course! Forgive me. Yes, I definitely want that for my dau—for Bard's daughter. I think Sigrid will like it very much."

The jeweler smiled brightly and went off to wrap her item. When he came back, she reached into the drawstring pouch she carried and handed him the gold and silver he asked for, then gave him two more silver coins. "Keep it," she said when he tried to give the excess back to her. "It is my pleasure to give extra for quality craftsmanship."

The man bobbed his head in gratitude. "Thank you very much. You are most generous, my Lady."

Tucking the small box with the necklace into her bag, Tauriel turned and headed for the door. Dorna fell into step beside her as she exited the shop.

"You were going to say 'my daughter', weren't you?" she asked.

"I do think of Bard's girls as mine," the elf admitted. "I love them as though they were, although I've certainly no intention of trying to replace their mother."

"Doubtful you could," Dorna said. "Tilda might not remember her, but Bain and Sigrid certainly do. Everyone knows how devastated they were when Aja passed away. It's a surprise to us all, really, that Bard even looked your way given how beautiful she was and how much he loved her."

"So he has told me," Tauriel said, though those were not the words he had used—only that having lost his wife, he, too, had been afraid to give his heart to another.

"He did?" her companion said with some surprise. "Well, of course he did. Bard's such an honest fellow. I'm not surprised he would say such a thing, so I hope you really appreciate that he's given you a second chance."

On that, at least, the two of them agreed. "I have a great deal to be thankful for, Bard's love and forgiveness chiefly among them."

"Tauriel," Dorna began, snagging her sleeve as she stopped walking. "I would very much like to have you over for tea. Let us put the past behind us, as you and Bard have done, and begin again as friends."

Tauriel raised a skeptical brow. "Is that what you really want?" she asked.

Dorna chuckled. "Of course you would say that, I've given you no cause but to think ill of me. I assure you, however, that my intentions are noble. I've no desire to enter a new era for my people as the enemy of our queen."

"I never wanted to be your enemy, Dorna."

The woman beside her sighed. "I know. Like I said, I've realized what I fool I was."

Studying Dorna with a wary eye, Tauriel could discern nothing in her posture to indicate she was being deceitful. Maybe she should give her the benefit of the doubt, as it would certainly be a relief to have made peace with the woman.

"Very well," she said at last.

* * *

Bodies were heavy. She knew that because she had been conscripted into helping pull barely alive and completely dead Lake-towners from the water the day the dragon came.

A fat, pregnant elf was worse, Dorna thought sourly as she dragged an unconscious Tauriel from the table they had sat at in the house she'd chosen for this event down into the basement, where she planned to keep her locked away for as long as possible…or at least until she figured out what the hell she was going to do next. Admittedly, she had not planned beyond getting her here and knocking her out, and of course drugging her with the jimson.

Oh, how she'd love to see what kind of nasties the bitch would dream up. Jimson was a plant not to be trifled with, as it was known to make people see things. Some folk who'd been foolish enough to smoke it claimed to have had intense "spiritual" visions, but most had experienced terrifying hallucinations and paranoid delusions. Only the most gifted healers should ever try to use it medicinally, it had been said, and even with training, use of jimson had its risks.

Dorna was very much hoping Tauriel would see things that would freak her out. Maybe she'd knock a hole in her own head and they'd be rid of her once and for all. Damn it, but if that stupid bitch hadn't come back! She just knew that if Tauriel had stayed gone, she would have had Bard. It was taking time, and a lot more patience than she'd thought herself capable of, but he was worth it. He was a magnificent specimen of a man and by the Valar, he was going to be king. A few more months, just a few more months, and he'd have been hers.

Damn that elf! Why did she have to come back and ruin everything?! Dorna knew she could have made Bard forget her in time. Being sweet and courteous and helpful would have won him over eventually—not to mention she was gorgeous. There weren't many men in Dale who'd be able to resist her if she poured on enough charm.

Not even Bard could have put her off indefinitely.

Once she had pulled Tauriel down the stairs to the cellar, Dorna took some rope she had placed there for this purpose and wrapped it tightly around the elf's wrists; another piece was wrapped around her ankles—no way did she want her busting her way out in case the jimson wore off. She also wrapped an old scarf around her head as a gag. Although she had stood down here with the door closed and screamed and no one had heard her, she wasn't taking any chances there, either.

With the bitch trussed up and out of the way in a dark corner, Dorna stood straight and dusted herself off, left the cellar—locking the door behind her, of course—and returned to the kitchen. On the table sat the money pouch the elf had been carrying, which she then opened and pulled out the small, wrapped box containing her purchase from the jeweler's.

"How pretty," she whispered aloud as the sapphire caught the light streaming in from the window. Dropping the box on the table, she unfastened the clasp and put it around her own neck. The pendant settled quite nicely just above her cleavage.

Yes, she would keep this—and the money. It would be a bonus for having to put up with the elf until she figured out what to do with her.


	63. Chapter 63

**Hey all. Sorry I am like, way late with this week's chapter. I've been meaning to get on here and post it every single day but something has always distracted me or made me forget entirely. But here it is!**

 **In this chapter, Bard contemplates the future and Thranduil muses on the past...**

* * *

Bard gave one last look over his shoulder at the city, and with a sigh, turned back around and urged Huron forward.

He didn't want to leave. He and Tauriel were having such a marvelous time becoming reacquainted, when he wasn't dealing with matters of leadership. This trip to Erebor, his presence being requested by Dáin himself, was one of those matters.

The truth of why he'd received no response to his letter to Thranduil had been told to him. He'd been deeply angered—Sigrid and so many others could have died over the dwarf's foolish pride. _He_ could have died. Once he had calmed, Bard declared that he would seek other means of sending messages and sent the ravens on a perch in his office back to the mountain. Tauriel had suggested falcons as message carriers, as they were commonly used by elves. Sigrid had then reminded him that he'd understood the song of the thrush, the bird that had told him about the dragon's missing scale—enabling him to kill the beast—and suggested that perhaps they could convince them to become messengers as their ancestors had done in the Dale of old.

Not knowing which would work best, Bard had decided they would try both and find out. Thrushes, of course, they had in ready supply about the city, but falcons they did not—those, he reluctantly admitted, would have to come from Mirkwood as it was the closest Elven realm. Given Dáin's control of the ravens, however, Bard was reluctant to trust that Thranduil wouldn't do as Dáin had done at some point, though Tauriel assured him he would not. To assuage his concerns, however, she had suggested requesting a couple of breeding pairs for temporary use, that they might breed their own stock from those.

"We might also attempt to capture wild falcons and tame them," she'd added. "I've some affinity with animals, though nothing close to Ranárë's gift. I might be able to convince them to work for us."

She was welcome to try, he mused as he and two of his Guard—Magnus and Tormen—rode along the bridge. Bard wondered for what purpose this meeting had been called, as the letter from the King under the Mountain had said nothing save his presence had been requested. Truthfully, whatever Dáin wanted, he was hoping he could get through the meeting without giving in to the urge to punch the dwarf for his stupidity.

 _Whatever happened to being peaceful neighbors?_ he wondered. _After that bloody battle, we all parted on such good terms. Dáin and I have gotten along so well in the months since, but any mention of working with the elves and he balks. Thranduil is likewise as stubborn—I daresay had it not been for Tauriel and Bain, he'd have dismissed the plight of the dwarves' fight with the flush without a second thought_.

So lost was he in his musings that it took Tormen nearly shouting his name to get his attention. Bard looked up to see him pointing across the valley. From the border of Mirkwood had emerged a small retinue of elves—he counted four on horseback, two on each side of their king. Thranduil, of course, was riding an elk. It appeared to be a younger buck than the one he'd ridden in the battle, its palmate antlers not quite as wide as those of his late predecessor.

Thranduil took notice of him at the same time, and the two parties turned toward each other. They met in the middle of the valley and the Elvenking raised his arm in salute; Bard likewise did the same.

" _Suilaid, mellon nín_. It is a great pleasure to see you mended," Thranduil said cordially.

"Thank you," Bard replied. "It is a great pleasure to be mended, I assure you."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Speak you of the illness you suffered, or perhaps something…closer to your heart?"

The heat of discomfiture rose up Bard's neck but he did not let his gaze falter. He knew that his relationship with Tauriel had been relayed to the king by Alaren following his return to Dale, as well as their estrangement, most likely. He knew also that Tauriel had been in his halls when Bain and Thorin had entered the forest with intent to seek aid for the ill, so Thranduil had seen she was bonded for himself—and he'd seen she carried a child. That Tauriel had not returned to the Woodland Realm since departing ahead of the healers a month past meant that she had not been turned away, and from the other man's words, Bard sensed that he had hoped for their reconciliation.

So he offered a slight smile and said, "Both."

The elf smiled in return, though his expression carried a hint of sadness. "Good. If only we all could receive such a blessing as to be reunited with those we love."

Thranduil looked then toward the mountain. "So tell me, Bard… Have you any idea why we have been summoned to an audience with the King under the Mountain?"

Bard shook his head as he glanced toward the mountain as well. "Nay, I have none. Though I will admit I am surprised your presence has been requested."

"If that _naug_ fool has any sense at all, he will beg your forgiveness for his interference—both you and Sigrid might have died, as well as many of your kin. Had my foster-daughter lost her husband and child-by-marriage, she would then have Faded, taking her unborn with her."

Turning back to Bard, Thranduil said with a tone that was soft but deadly, "The flush, as you call it, would not have been the reason _he_ died should that have occurred."

Bard had trembled internally when Thranduil spoke of how close he and Sigrid had come to dying, and bile rose at the thought that his wife and unborn child would have followed. Swallowing heavily, he said, "An apology would be welcome, certainly, and might well explain why he requested I meet with him. But it does not explain why you are also asked to come."

"No, it does not," Thranduil mused, tilting his head thoughtfully. He then gave a slight jerk to the reins in his hands, turning his mount toward the mountain. "Come then, let us both see our curiosity satisfied."

With a nod, Bard turned Huron to follow. As they rode toward the mountain, Thranduil asked him how Tauriel was getting on, if she was being treated well by his people. He replied that though there had been many questions as to why she had left, that she had brought the cure for the flush—or at least, the person who had conceived the cure—had served to temper his people's curiosity, and their displeasure. His own forgiveness of her and that of his children, he admitted, had come only when she confessed her reason for leaving.

"Why did she go?" Thranduil asked. "I knew when I saw you together during your visit to my lands that there was something between you, though it was not so obvious as it is now."

"The Lady of the Golden Wood has something she called a mirror, into which Tauriel looked and saw a glimpse of the future," Bard replied tersely. "One of the visions she saw was my death. As she was still touched by the grief of losing her first love, being forced to witness my demise ere she was ready to face it was too great a sorrow to bear. She felt she could do naught but run from the pain."

His companion grumbled low in Sindarin. "And they say my subjects are less wise," he muttered in a slightly louder, though no less angry tone. "I know of that mirror, and I know that Galadriel should _not_ ask everyone if they will look into it. Knowledge of the future is not meant for all, for it is more often than not dangerous to bear such foresight. That she would do such a thing to her own flesh and blood…"

Bard grimaced. Tauriel had explained how she was related to Galadriel, how the elder _elleth_ had known before she did—and said nothing—because of the ability of the Eldar to sense blood kin. How she had felt a familiarity with her and her grandchildren when she'd met them, but hadn't known what it meant until her time in Rivendell, as she'd only ever experienced the sensation with her parents and they'd never explained it to her.

" _I cannot fathom as to why they would keep something so simple from me_ ," she'd said. " _With them I simply attributed the feeling to being happy to see them—I had no idea it meant something more_."

"Why did Tauriel not know she could sense a relation to her blood kin?" he asked. "I should think something like that would be common knowledge among your kind."

Thranduil frowned. "I cannot say, as I do not know—though you are correct in that it is considered common knowledge. Elflings are told of the recognition in their formative years. That no one she knew mentioned it simply means it was believed Tauriel already knew. Why Lúnairien and Vanendil kept it from her I cannot imagine."

"Did you know her parents well?"

"No. When we met I had just lost my father in battle. I gave them leave to remain in my realm and when they requested to join the Guard in repayment, I granted them that as well. They did their jobs but kept to themselves, as I recall. I was not of a mind to question two elves willing to pledge their service to me, though recent developments make me wish I had," Thranduil replied.

"You refer to learning Tauriel is of Ñoldorin descent?"

A muscle in the elf's jaw twitched as he nodded. "Indeed, for I believed her parents to be Silvan elves and they did not correct my assumption. And though I have reason to dislike certain Ñoldor, I have always respected the royal bloodlines of the Ñoldor and Teleri clans."

"Tauriel confessed she was surprised by your ready acceptance of her lineage."

"As I said, I respect the royal bloodlines. Tauriel is not responsible for the actions of her ancestors—though should Maglor show his face in these parts, I would not be nearly so accepting. Regardless of the fact that her grandsire and his brothers slew many of my Sindar kin, your wife is a princess by birth…and regrettably, for six hundred years I treated her as though she were a common Silvan elf."

"Why, I have long been curious to know, is there such a ridiculous prejudice against Silvan elves?" Bard queried. "What does it matter from which clan one of you is born? You all bleed the same when you are cut, you all laugh… You all have pointy ears and fair faces. You all live forever. To a man or a dwarf or a hobbit, an elf is an elf. We see no distinction between clans or bloodlines or what have you."

His Elven companion chuckled, and shook his head as he replied, "My good man, if only it were that simple. From the outside, yes—we are all the same, though physical traits like hair color are more common in some clans than others. And though recent events, and Tauriel, have led me to see that I should conduct myself with that very same mindset… Thousands of years of history and politics simply cannot be erased so easily."

Bard nodded his understanding. "No, I suppose not. However, Tauriel did mention there's been something of a change in you."

A smile now graced Thranduil's lips. "It pleases me greatly that she noticed. I am endeavoring to be a more considerate king, but it takes time."

"How about trying to be a better neighbor as well?" Bard suggested, gesturing toward the mountain before them.

Thranduil's expression fell. "What did I just say about history, _mellon nín_?"

A growl of frustration escaped him. "Thranduil, what choice have we but to get along with each other? To cooperate in the defense of our realms? Erebor and Dale are but minutes apart, and Mirkwood less than a day's ride from both. Would not cooperation for the mutual benefit of all be preferable to petty squabbling that might one day lead to a war we can none of us afford?"

"You do realize that the dwarf you defend so readily nearly cost you and your daughter your lives, do you not? Had Tauriel been but days later, or not returned at all, you would both of you and so many of your people have perished. My healers did not know of the cure."

"I am aware of what he's done, and I do not defend his actions," Bard said. "I merely point out that if we wish to prevent such arrogant stupidity from risking lives in the future, it's about bloody time we all put petty disagreements aside."

"I have no wish to offend you, Bard, but such is easy for you to say. You have no long-standing enmity with either my people or Dáin's—but his and mine _do_ have centuries of bad blood between us. That is something else that cannot be easily cast aside."

"Well I suggest you try," Bard snapped, feeling at his wit's end with Thranduil's stubborn refusal to yield any ground. "I will say the same to Dáin, because I have no desire to be caught in the middle of a feud between elves and dwarves."

 _I've no desire to be caught in the middle of a feud between my friends_ , he added silently.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _naug_ – dwarf


	64. Chapter 64

**As a bonus for your wonderful patience and for continuing to follow along on this epic adventure, here's a bonus chapter!**

 **Three kings convene to discuss relations, and a dire situation makes itself known.**

* * *

A number of heavily armored guards awaited the two parties at the gate to the mountain. At the fore was one Bard recognized—Dwalin, whom he knew had been appointed to command of Dáin's personal security.

"Follow me," the gruff warrior said when they had dismounted and grooms had come to take their animals. Two of the Dwarven guards fell into step behind him, the others waiting until the visitors passed in order to bring up the rear. They were led quickly through a maze of corridors lit with oil lamps tucked into alcoves that had been polished to a mirror shine, thereby seeming to give off even more light. Larger rooms and walkways through which they passed were lit from high above by lamps strung on lines from one end to the other.

Which was something a near-windowless mountain definitely needed, Bard mused.

He had assumed Dáin would see them in the throne room, but surprised he was when Dwalin led them to what was either a private dining room or some sort of conference room, for there was in the middle a long wooden table with several chairs around it.

"Have a seat. The King will be with you shortly," their guide told them, gesturing toward the table and then exiting through a second door on the opposite end of the room from which they'd entered. Four dwarf guards took up positions on either side of the two doors.

Thranduil frowned as he and his own guards moved to one side of the table. He dropped elegantly into the chair one of the four pulled out for him, saying, "I do hope Dáin does not keep us waiting long. How rude it would be to invite guests into your home only to make them wait for you."

Bard refused to respond to that comment as he took the chair across from the elf lord. He rose again seconds later as Dáin Ironfoot came through the door Dwalin had exited, with the warrior right behind him.

"Thank you for coming, Lord Bard," said the King under the Mountain. "And you, Thranduil."

He hesitated before saying the elf's name, Bard noted, as though it displeased him to have to speak it. Thranduil himself—who had not stood on his host's entrance—leaned back in his chair with a mask of his usual arrogance in place.

"Dáin," he returned with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

Bard studied Dáin as he took his chair once more. He looked…tired, as though he was already worn out from the day's events even though it was not yet noon. He wondered if perhaps the flush had taken more of a toll on the dwarf than it had himself, as though he'd been forced to rest quite often for the first week after receiving the cure, he was now back up to his old strength.

"We have a problem, we three," Dáin said as he took the chair at the head of the table. "Or rather, two of us have a problem and the third has suffered for it."

He looked directly at Bard then. "You have my sincerest apologies, Bard. My pride got in the way of my common sense, and it nearly cost you and yours your lives. It nearly cost me my own."

Bard nodded his head. "Thank you for admitting that," he replied. Maybe he wouldn't punch him in the face after all.

"Do you apologize because Bard and his daughter could have died, or because you could have?"

Dáin's eyes narrowed as he turned to Thranduil; Bard groaned inwardly.

"You do realize that were it not for elves, you might not be sitting before us now?" the elf pressed.

"I am well aware from whence the cure came," Dáin barked. "It was a Dúnadan that discovered it, not an elf."

"A Dúnadan raised by elves. Taught to be a healer by an _elf_ ," Thranduil snapped in reply. "Your people were treated by Elven healers from my own halls."

"Your high and mighty people had a hand in it, oh yes! But how many thousands of years did that bloody moss grow on those trees before a _mortal child_ wondered whether some use could be made of it besides looking pretty?"

Bard pounded a fist on the table. "That is enough!" he yelled. "This is exactly what I was talking about—this petty nonsense of who is better than whom! When are the two of you going to realize that bickering like children makes you lesser than you proclaim yourselves to be?"

A stony silence descended over the room as Bard regarded both men. They in turn stared back at him, and then each other for an even longer moment. Neither seemed willing to give, and Bard was near to taking his leave when Dwalin spoke up.

"He's right."

Two simple words, spoken by a dwarf who trusted virtually no one—who hadn't even trusted _him_ when they'd first met—served to shatter the quiet. Bard flicked his eyes to the tattooed dwarf and gave a nod of thanks. Dwalin huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, though his head also gave a slight inclination.

Bard then passed his gaze between the other two leaders. "I have forged alliances for Dale with both Erebor and the Woodland Realm, alliances my people cannot afford to see severed. But I _will_ ensure they are cut if there cannot be made a truce between you, for I will not allow you to drag my kin into the midst of your fight—I will not be made to choose a side."

"We don't have to like each other," Dáin said after another long moment of silence. "We just have to…get along."

"Agreed," Thranduil said with a nod.

Bard nodded as well—it was a start. He got the feeling that an acknowledgment of the need for cooperation was the reason Thranduil's presence had been requested in the first place, but the inclination to snipe at each other had sidelined whatever noble intentions Dáin had meant to start with.

They were just beginning a discussion of having regular meetings with their closest advisors when the oddest thing occurred… Bard saw a giant spider behind the dwarf king. Shaking his head and blinking, it disappeared. It reappeared moments later, its pincers snapping. He jumped up from his chair and drew his sword in preparation to fight.

But then it was gone again.

"Bard, what the devil are you doing, lad?"

He blinked rapidly as he glanced around the room. Dáin's soldiers had drawn their weapons as had his own; Thranduil's guards had their hands on their swords.

"I…" Bard began, shaking his head again as though to clear it. The moment he looked up, there was not one but six spiders around him.

"Don't you see them?!" he cried.

Thranduil stood as one of the dwarf guards stepped toward him. "Bard, what do you see?" he asked calmly.

"The spiders! Don't you see the spiders?"

"What has the man been smoking?" muttered Dwalin. "He was the sane one moments ago, and now he's gone daft."

The Elvenking rounded the table and took Bard by the shoulders. "Where is Tauriel?" he asked.

"I… I don't know. She was in Dale when we left," Bard replied.

"What's Kíli's elf got to do with anything?" Dáin asked. "What's wrong with _him_?"

"Tauriel is not Kíli's elf anymore, and hasn't been for some time," Thranduil told him. To Bard, he said, "I need you to concentrate. Your bond is showing you what she is seeing. Can you see where she is—has she gone into the woods?"

Bard shook his head. Fear now ratcheted up his spine, though thankfully the visions of spiders were gone for the moment. "No, I do not think so," he said slowly, returning Defender to the scabbard at his waist. "But something is wrong with her. She was seeing the spiders from your woods—"

His voice dropped off and he gasped as he now saw, from Tauriel's prospective, the fight with the goblin on the rooftop in Halken. Only this time her foe wasn't alone, as a dozen more came crawling and snarling over the roof's edge. Bard jumped as though to get away from them and Thranduil tightened his hold on him.

"I need you to concentrate," the elf said again, his voice stern. "You're going to have to try and shut her out—you're of no use to Tauriel if you cannot separate your thoughts from hers."

"The irony in that," Bard found himself saying, though his voice sounded distant to his ears. "Is that she once said the same thing—or did she think it? I can't remember… but there was something about learning to tune each other out."

"She was right," Thranduil replied, a touch of amusement in his tone. "Now concentrate, Bard. Focus on my voice, and remember where you are. Know that she is troubled, but remember that you must have focus if you are going to help her."

"What in Mahal's name is going on here?" Dáin demanded. "Start explaining yourselves, damn it!"

Thranduil glanced only briefly over his shoulder at the dwarf. "Bard and Tauriel are wed according to the customs of the Eldar, and share what is called a _fëa_ bond."

"It…it is a connection that allows me to see what she sees. To feel what she feels," Bard added. "Something is very wrong—I have to go."

He made to turn out of Thranduil's grasp, but he now saw Smaug as the fire-drake burned a path across Lake-town. He cried out and Thranduil shook him.

"Bard! Concentrate, you fool!" Thranduil said sharply. "Do as I said and focus on _my_ voice. Focus on your surroundings, the people who are here in this room with you."

Taking a number of deep breaths, Bard struggled to listen to the deep, steady cadence of the other man's voice. He looked around, forcing himself to remember that he was in a conference room in Erebor. He was with two of his own men. Thranduil. Dáin and Dwalin. There were four Mirkwood soldiers and four more of Dáin's security. It was hard to do, however, because Tauriel's thoughts were so chaotic they threatened to crowd his mind, but he knew Thranduil was right: he was of no use to her if he could not think straight.

"There you are," the Elvenking said as his mind came clear. "Now let us make haste to Dale."

Bard could still sense fear from his bride, but he was more himself than he had been moments ago. With a nod at Thranduil, he turned again for the door—Magnus already held it open for him, and he hurried through it. Thranduil stepped to his side immediately, their respective guards close on their heels. He sensed some of the dwarves also following as they thundered through the corridors.

From somewhere behind him, Dáin bellowed an order for their mounts to be brought to the gate.

"What is going on?" he asked again as they reached the grand entrance to the mountain. "What is a _fëa_ bond?"

Thranduil whirled on him as Bard's desperate gaze turned toward Dale. "It is a deeply spiritual and psychic connection each elf creates with their chosen mate on the night of their union. As Bard said before, it allows the bonded pair to see what their mate sees and feel what they feel— _all_ emotions, including fear."

"It is physical as well," Bard said. "Though we were far apart when she traveled to the west, when she was attacked by orcs I felt her pain. _Where the bloody hell is my horse_?!"

The look Thranduil favored him with then was one of worried understanding. "Yes, I know of that connection. Tauriel was affected when you took ill with the flush."

"We can also thought-speak with one another, and yes, I know that is rare. Ours is an odd bond, I get— It's about sodding time!" he shouted when the grooms came into view at last. "Huron!"

The white stallion neighed loudly as he reared and jerked away from his handler. Bard caught the reins as the horse came alongside him and leapt up into the saddle. He bent low over Huron's neck and kicked his heels back, urging the horse into a gallop. Absently he noted Thranduil pulling up beside him on the elk, but he paid him and the guards who followed little heed as he tried to reach Tauriel through the bond.

 _Tauriel, my darling_ , please _! I beg you, tell me where you are!_

Her fear was the only response for several moments, and then her communication was frantic and disjointed.

 _Spiders…orcs…goblins. Too many, can't fight them! Fire…fire everywhere. Can't get out this time, can't get out!_

His heart squeezed in his chest and he urged Huron to go faster.


	65. Chapter 65

**Bard finds Tauriel, gets an unexpected surprise, and finds out who betrayed him.**

* * *

As Bard pushed Huron to his limits, he was reminded of the last time he had done so: the day Tauriel ran away.

She was not running away again. Things were different now— _they_ were different. Each had been nothing but open and honest with the other since the night she had confessed her reason for leaving him all those months ago. Their love and the bond they shared had grown stronger.

 _Tauriel, my darling, can you hear me? Can you tell me where you are?_

 _Dark… dark in here. No light. Can't see, Bard, can't see! Can't get up, can't walk. Too many spiders, too many orcs—I hate orcs! And fire—it's so hot! I'm going to burn! Help me!_

 _I am coming, my love. I swear to you, I am coming to find you_.

Bard released a yell of frustration that he was not there already and urged Huron to run faster.

"You said you can thought-speak with Tauriel," Thranduil called over to him. "Have you been able to reach her at all?"

He nodded. "She said she is someplace dark, that she cannot see," he replied as they started across the bridge into Dale. "She cannot get up or walk, and she keeps seeing things like spiders and orcs."

"Hallucinations. Given your reaction to what she is seeing, I suspect she has been poisoned," the elf returned.

Bard's head turned sharply. "I thought elves were immune to poison?"

"You forget that Tauriel was poisoned by orc arrows some months ago. Our constitutions are stronger than those of men and so we are able to fight the effects of poison better, but we are still vulnerable to their evil—Tauriel more so due to her present physical condition."

"Would poison harm our child?"

Thranduil's countenance was grave. "It will depend on what and how much she was given."

Rage began to burn a steady path through his body. Who in Dale would dare do such a thing as kidnapping and poisoning a pregnant woman?

The city gate had remained open after his earlier departure, so no time was wasted having to wait for it to be opened to admit them. Still, Bard paused after passing through just long enough to order every available man begin a search of the city for Tauriel.

"And let it be known that whoever has harmed my wife will suffer greatly for it!" he declared, then ordered the gate closed before riding off into the city.

* * *

Bard thundered through Dale on Huron's back, calling out Tauriel's name. The desperate need to find her was all that kept the fear of what had happened to her from consuming him. That and the white-hot rage that one of his own people had attacked her and possibly poisoned her, threatening her life and that of his child. Who here would even _do_ such a thing? he wondered. And _why_ , for Eru's sake? Though her leaving so abruptly in Lothlórien had upset people, he'd thought they were over that. The fact that his family had forgiven her—that they were planning a wedding to honor his culture—ought to have put an end to any bad feelings.

He and the men who'd followed him were now in the lower residential district. Here the homes were smaller than those farther up the hill, and in the old days he knew this was where those of lowest income would reside. Very few of the old Lake-towners had chosen to make their homes in these neighborhoods, thus making them all but empty. But there was no place Bard would not look for Tauriel, and it was not lost on him that a section of the city that was still all but abandoned would be the perfect place to commit such a crime as had been done to his elf.

He had dropped down from Huron's back yet again and was about to try a door on the right side of the street when suddenly it flew open and a small object barreled into him. Looking down, he saw that it was Beric, and a frown creased his brow as he took the boy by the arms.

"Beric, what are you doing playing in an empty hose all by yourself? Get yourself back to the manor, boy," Bard told him sternly.

He turned then to Tormen—though he hated to take anyone away from the search, he knew well that Beric was not supposed to be off by himself so far from the manor. Also, though the boy was only a little thing, he didn't want him getting in the way.

"Tormen, see to it that Beric—"

Bard was stopped short when his sleeve was yanked and a tiny voice said, "Mister Bard!"

He and Tormen shared a looked before both cast their eyes down on Beric in surprise. The child had not spoken a word in months.

"What is it, young Master Beric?" Bard asked slowly.

Beric turned and pointed to the house he'd just run out of. "Miss Tauriel."

Grabbing the boy's shoulders, he turned him so they were facing each other. "Tauriel is in there? Are you certain?"

The fear and hope in his voice was not lost on him, nor was the spike in the latter when Beric nodded solemnly. "In the cellar. I think she's really, really scared of the dark. I am too, but I went down there anyway and found her. And I was coming out to tell somebody and ran into you!"

Bard knew from the images that continued to plague him that the dark was hardly what was frightening Tauriel, but he did not correct the boy as he yelled for a torch to be brought to him.

He patted Beric's shoulder and said, "You did good, young master."

It was Thranduil who brought a lit torch to him and handed it over—Bard hadn't even realized the elf had caught up with him. He led the way inside and quickly found the cellar door that had been left open by Beric. He could hear muted screams from Tauriel, her fear leading him to all but fly down the steps.

She was balled up in a corner, her ankles and wrists bound. A gag was around her head. Her eyes darted back and forth as she shrank in fear from things that weren't really there.

Bard passed the torch back to Thranduil as he knelt slowly and reached out to remove her gag. "Tauriel, my darling, it's Bard. I've come to take you home."

When her eyes finally found on him, they were wide, the pupils dilated with only the thinnest ring of her beautiful green irises remaining. Yet even though her gaze held his, it was still as though she did not see him.

"The fire! Lake-town is on fire—we'll die if we stay, we'll die!"

"Then let us go, my darling. Let me get you to safety," Bard said softly, the terror in her voice breaking his heart. Here before him was one of the strongest, bravest beings he had ever known, and whatever she had been given had reduced her to little more than a whimpering, frightened mess—reminding him painfully of the terror that had led her to flee. He hurried to untie her bonds, then slipped his arms underneath her to lift her from the hard ground.

His direct touch triggered a memory—this one, he knew, was to her far more frightening than any hallucination. Bard saw again the vision from the mirror in which he had died an old man. A wail of anguish escaped her that turned into one of blood-curdling terror when the vision changed. Tauriel now saw him on a battlefield standing amidst countless fallen orcs. The scene seemed one of victory for all of a second, until a blade pierced his chest from behind. He was then set upon by a half dozen orcs who proceeded to tear him apart.

" _No!_ " Tauriel screamed.

"Tauriel, listen to me—it is not real!" Bard said, shouting to try and get her attention.

Her scream ended abruptly and her mind went blank, and she suddenly went limp, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"She has fainted," Thranduil observed. "We must get her to the healers."

Bard gave only a curt nod, then Thranduil turned and led the way back up the cellar stairs and out of the house. Outside on the street a small crowd had gathered. Magnus stood by Huron with his hand on Beric's shoulder. Three more of his men as well as the Elvenking's four guards were present also.

Bard did not wish to let her go, but knew someone else would have to hold Tauriel while he climbed up on his horse. He turned to Thranduil and said, "Take her for just a moment."

The elf looked into his eyes and nodded in understanding. He then passed the torch to Tormen and reached forward, carefully taking Tauriel into his arms.

It took just seconds to leap onto Huron's back, and then Bard was reaching for her. Thranduil handed her up gently, not stepping away until she was secure in his arms. The elf then strode over to his elk and climbed into the saddle.

"Magnus, bring Beric to the Healer's Hall. Tormen, you stay here and guard this door," Bard ordered his men. The two acknowledged as Thranduil moved up ahead of him, shouting orders at his guards in Sindarin. The four Elven soldiers took up position with two on either side of Bard and Tauriel, leaving Magnus to bring up the rear with little Beric.

The party rode through Dale at a fast clip, and anyone foolish enough to get in the way quickly thought better of it. Several long, agonizing minutes later, they reached the Healer's Hall, where they soon rushed into the foyer to the startled gaze of the two healers. Laivindil and Gildan ushered Bard into a private room with his precious cargo as he explained what they suspected, and once he had laid Tauriel gently on the bed, the elf healer took him by the arm and tried to guide him out.

"I will not leave her!" he declared loudly, shaking the man's hand off.

" _Hîr nín_ , please," Gildan said. "Laivindil and I must have room to work. You can do no more for Lady Tauriel at present than you have already done."

"The healer is correct, _mellon nín_ ," Thranduil said softly.

"No," Bard replied with a firm shake of his head. "I will not leave her."

Gildan sighed. " _Aran nín_ …"

Bard did not catch the affirmative nod of Thranduil's head; he only knew a sudden, vise-like grip on his arms pulling him toward the door. He tried to break free of the hold but the elf's grip was too strong. As soon as they'd crossed the threshold, Gildan shut and locked the door between them.

Thranduil released him as soon as the lock clicked into place. Bard threw himself against it, banging his fists against the aged wood as he cried out loudly in anguish.

"Bard, she is in good hands," his companion said to him. "Gildan is exceptionally gifted and though it pains me to admit it, Laivindil was trained by the best."

Though he knew the other man's words were meant to comfort, just the sound of his voice incited a rush of anger. Thranduil had separated him from Tauriel.

Whirling, he swung his fist into the elf's jaw. Thranduil staggered back, his eyes wide with surprise. Before either could say or do anything else, Magnus appeared in the hall with Beric by his side.

"My Lord, you must hear this," his bodyguard said.

"Hear what?" Bard snapped.

That Beric jumped and shrank back at the sharpness of his tone made Bard realize he needed to rein his emotions in—he was taking his anger out on the wrong people.

"Forgive me, Sir Magnus," he said, then forced a smile as he looked down at Beric. "I did not mean to frighten you, young man."

Returning his gaze to the soldier, he asked, "Now, what is it that I must hear?"

"I asked young Master Beric what he was doing at the house where Lady Tauriel was found. He told me he had followed her there," Magnus replied.

Bard looked down at Beric. "She went there of her own free will?"

Beric nodded.

"Why did you follow her?" Thranduil asked.

"I went even though I'm not s'posed to go out on my own 'cause I like Miss Tauriel. She has a pretty smile. I follow her sometimes just because I like to see her smile, and she does that a lot."

A smile appeared for the briefest of moments on Bard's face. "That she does. What happened when you followed her?"

"She was talking to the mean lady. They met at the store where you buy necklaces and stuff. The mean lady said she wanted her to come over for tea. So they walked to that house."

A glance at Thranduil showed Bard an expression of confusion on the elf's face that was surely matched by his own.

"You saw them enter together?" Thranduil asked.

Beric nodded again. "Yes sir, Mister Elf. I… Well, I kinda fell asleep in the doorway across the street where I was waiting. I woke up when I heard a loud noise—it was the mean lady coming out, and she had shut the door real hard." He paused for breath. "So I waited a few minutes for Miss Tauriel in case she was cleaning up even though I thought that's where the mean lady lived. But she didn't come out, and I was afraid I missed her leaving. I know I shouldn't have went into someone else's house when they wasn't home, but I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss her."

The look on the boy's face was one of shame, as though he knew he'd done wrong and was sorry for it. Bard couldn't let him continue to think he had, for had he not gone into that house…

No. He absolutely would not go there.

Stepping up to Beric and squatting down, he said softly, "Do not worry yourself, young master, that your actions were in the wrong. You did a very good thing today—Miss Tauriel has been hurt by someone, and it might have been the woman you saw her with."

"But why would anyone want to hurt her? She's so nice."

 _Out of the mouths of babes_ , Bard thought. "That is what we would like to find out."

"What is the name of the woman you saw Tauriel with, young man?" asked Thranduil.

The boy looked up at him. "I don't really remember her name, 'cause she was so mean. She was never nice to me or Erina."

Then he looked back to Bard and said, "But I know she used to live with us."

Bard stood so abruptly that the boy stepped back into Magnus. The bodyguard cursed and Bard could feel his blood beginning to boil with barely-restrained fury at the betrayal.

He knew his gaze was as hard as steel when he looked to Magnus and said, "Find her. Lock her in the cells until such time as I feel fit enough to look at her without a desire to commit murder."

* * *

 **Dorna's in for it now! Hehehe...**


	66. Chapter 66

**Bard is forced to confront a sociopath...**

* * *

As soon as Magnus departed, Thranduil asked, "Who is this woman the boy speaks of?"

Bard emitted a disgusted snort. "Her name is Dorna. She was under the mistaken belief while Tauriel was gone that she could have me for herself."

"Clearly she is still mistaken," the elf replied in a droll tone.

He then crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you plan to do to punish her for what she has done to Tauriel?"

Bard ran his hands through his hair and groaned in frustration. "I don't know. I just … I don't know! I learnt during my recovery from the flush that Dorna had harbored a desire for me for several years, and she kept well-hidden her dislike of Tauriel until her return from the west. I understand why she would be angered by my rejection, but I did not think her vengeful—certainly not dangerous enough to do something like this."

"Is Miss Tauriel gonna be okay?"

With a start, Bard looked down at Beric—for a moment, he'd forgotten the boy was still with them.

"I do not know," he said, though it tore at his heart to admit it. "I am praying that she and our child will be all right."

"I'll pray too, okay?" the boy offered.

"Surely the Valar will listen to the pleas of so brave a young man," Thranduil told him. His gentle words and faint smile surprised Bard, until he recalled that children were few and far between among his people. He also knew that though displaying his regard openly was something of a foreign concept to the elf, he cared deeply for Tauriel as she was the closest thing he had to a daughter of his own.

Minutes later, all three of Bard's children came rushing in, his youngest throwing her arms around his waist with a soft cry.

"A soldier came to the manor and said Tauriel had been hurt. What happened?" Sigrid asked.

"The mean lady hurt her," Beric said, an approximation of a scowl on the six-year-old's face.

Tilda stepped back from her father to look at the little boy. "The mean—you mean Dorna? But why? How?"

Bard sighed. "You know I released Dorna from her position for reasons I declined to explain at the time. The truth is she fancied me—or more to the point she fancied herself as Queen—and only suggested she become Halia's assistant to get closer to me. When her true motivation for requesting a position on our household staff was revealed to me, I dismissed her. She apparently decided to exact vengeance by poisoning Tauriel."

"But the baby!" Tilda cried, tears springing to her eyes.

"How are they, Da? Are Tauriel and our brother or sister going to be all right?" asked Bain.

Bard turned toward the locked door that separated him from his love as he replied, "I do not know. Laivindil and Gildan are with her now. They would not let me stay."

He looked to Thranduil then, who was already sporting a bruise where he'd hit him. "Sorry about the…" he said, pointing to his own face.

Thranduil's expression was a mild smirk. "Think nothing of it—were it my wife on the other side of that door, I'd have reacted the same. Though come to think of it, considering you've a sword at your waist, I ought consider myself fortunate you used your fist and not your blade to strike me."

The lock on the door clicked then, and Gildan stepped out with a grave expression on his face.

"How is she?" Bard asked immediately.

"It would appear that Lady Tauriel has indeed been poisoned," the elf began. "As there are no marks on her body other than some minor bruising and a knot on her head where we believe she was struck with a blunt instrument, Laivindil and I have concluded that she ingested it, most likely without her knowledge. Unfortunately, not knowing what she was given limits what we can do for her. It would be a great help if we could discover what she took."

"There are a number of plants that could cause the symptoms you described, _hîr nín_ ," added Laivindil as she stepped up beside her colleague. "I have seen more than one growing about the city. If time were not of the essence, I'd have samples collected that we might test them and see which it was she was given."

 _If time were not of the essence_ … The words sent an ice-cold bolt of fear straight through him. Those words meant Tauriel was getting worse, not better.

"What…what can I do? Please, I must have some occupation if you will not allow me to sit with her," he said, his voice strained.

"Find whoever committed this heinous act and make them confess the poison they used," Gildan said.

"I know who it was," Bard replied, "and by the Valar, she'll confess or I'll have her worthless head."

* * *

His footfalls as he walked into the city jail were heavy. Though the logic of it had led to the facility being among the first of the repairs, Bard had hoped it would be a very long time indeed before need of the cells became necessary.

It had been less than a year.

He met Magnus in the reception area—it was small, consisting only of a desk and a chair. His bodyguard rose immediately with a bag in hand that he recognized.

"That belongs to Tauriel!" he said as he snatched it from the other man's palm. The drawstring purse had several coins in it, judging by the chinking sound it made and its weight.

"Sylvi and I found Dorna easily enough. She'd let a room at Hilda's inn, so we know the house wasn't where she lived—only where she committed the crime," Magnus said. "We found that and a necklace on her that we suspected was not hers. Sylvi's taken it to the jeweler from Dorwinion to confirm who purchased it."

As he spoke, Sylvi—one of the few women Magnus had named for the King's Guard—came in the door. She gave a short bow to Bard, then held out her hand.

"My Lord, Master Devorin said this necklace does _not_ belong to Dorna—it was purchased by Lady Tauriel this morning as a gift for Sigrid."

Bard took the necklace in hand. "Sigrid will like it very much," he mused, then placed it in the bag with Tauriel's money.

He then glanced toward the arched walkway beyond which he knew Dorna had to be fuming. "Has she said anything?"

Sylvi snorted. "Besides the usual denial that she'd done anything wrong?" Her expression softened a fraction. "How is Lady Tauriel?"

Bard's chest tightened painfully at the question. "She is not doing well. The healers must know what she was given that they may properly treat her. I need to question Dorna, but I fear just the sight of her will incite a madness I cannot control."

"She's behind bars, my Lord," Magnus said slowly. "That will save you from doing something you'll later regret, though Manwë knows she deserves that and more."

"And we'll be right there with you, sire," added Sylvi.

With a sigh, he nodded and tied the pouch to his belt, then turned his feet and headed to the back of the building where the cells were located.

Dorna rushed to the bars as soon as she heard them coming. "Hello? Magnus this is—Oh, thank goodness you're here, Bard! I don't know what they've told you—"

"Save it!" Bard said savagely, her attempt to plead innocent only fueling his fury. "I know _exactly_ what you have done—you have poisoned my wife and have put her life and the life of my child at risk! You locked her in a cellar with her feet and hands bound, her mouth gagged, and you left her there in the dark! Alone, with no company or comfort save the demons your poison created in her mind!"

He moved closer to the bars as her expression shifted, and the real personality of Dorna shone through. "What did you give her, Dorna?"

"Wouldn't you just love to know?" Dorna returned as she took a step back, her arms crossed over her chest. "You know, I tried to tell you to send her away, but you wouldn't listen. She's caused nothing but trouble, that elf."

"Tauriel has been naught but kind to you. And she's pregnant, for pity's sake! How could you be so cruel as to do her harm when she's with child?" Bard asked.

"She has to go. She's in my way."

He felt his eyes widen, so stunned was he by her blitheness. "In…in your way? To what, to me? To the crown of queen? I was never yours to begin with. I was never going to be, and you were certainly never going to be my queen."

"I could have been!" Dorna cried with a stomp of her foot as her hands moved to her hips. "If that wretched elf had just stayed away, I could have had you to myself! I _know_ I could have convinced you to love me!"

She moved closer, her hands on the bars of her cell door, her gaze pleading. "Bard please, think about this! We're the same species, you and I. If it's more children you desire, I'll give them to you! Tauriel's not one of us—she wasn't born in Esgaroth. She didn't live on the lake, her ancestors weren't from Dale. For all we know, she was there the day the dragon came—she might well have turned her back on our people's suffering the same as they did the dwarves. And for goodness' sake, she fell in love with a stinking dwarf! She could be on the rebound still—how do you even know she really loves you? How do you know that the title of queen is not what she's been after all along?"

In the next instant, his hand shot through the bars and gripped her throat tightly. "Shut up! Just… _shut up_ ," Bard said through clenched teeth. "I told you not to speak of Tauriel for you know _nothing_ about her! I am finished listening to your lies and your nonsense—you will tell me what you gave her, and you will tell me _now_!"

"My Lord."

Magnus' voice barely registered. Bard did not see the hand that came to rest on his shoulder, nor the hands of Dorna as they clasped his wrist. He saw nothing save that her eyes were bulging, her face turning red, and that she could barely draw breath for the grip he had taken of her slim neck. He knew only that he _wanted_ to hurt her.

"She cannot answer you if she cannot speak, sire," his bodyguard continued, his tone low and even. Calming.

Or it was certainly meant to be. He was in no mood to be calmed, though he did at last emit a growl of frustration as he threw Dorna back and withdrew his arm.

"What did you give her?" he asked again.

Dorna coughed as her hands went to her throat and her color slowly began to return to normal. "I…will never…tell you," she managed. "Not unless…you say you'll get rid of her."

"Do you really think there is even the remotest chance I shall ever want anything to do with you after this? Do you understand that if my wife and child perish, your life is forfeit?"

For the first time, something other than arrogance found its way into her eyes, but it was only a moment that she let her fear reside there before it was banished and she lifted her chin in defiance.

"Whether you send her packing or she dies… at least she's gone," she said.

"But you will get nothing! Your freedom is already revoked—wish you to die as well? Just tell me what you gave her!"

Dorna scowled and moved to sit on the stone bench carved out of the cell wall. She crossed her arms with a huff and said, "No."

Bard grasped the bars of the cell door. " _What did you give her?!_ "

His desperate scream was met with silence. Banging his hands against the bars, he screamed again before he stalked away, Magnus and Sylvi following close on his heels.

In the entryway Bard paused, bracing his weight on the old desk to try and stem the tidal waves of anger and despair that crashed against each other inside his mind.

"What the sodding hell does that madwoman hope to accomplish?" Sylvi mused darkly. "The very fact that she lured Lady Tauriel to that empty house, poisoned her, then trussed her up and left her in that cellar means she's at least to spend the rest of her days locked up, does it not?"

"Oh, there's no doubt of that Sylvi," Bard said savagely. "I don't want her to see the light of day for the rest of her wasted life."

"And you've already told her what fate awaits her if the worst should happen," Magnus said slowly. "By confession or silence, she loses."

"But by silence she also wins," Bard observed, his tone bitter. "She doesn't get me, but she gets the one thing she wants most of all—to get rid of Tauriel."


	67. Chapter 67

**Despair drops Bard to his knees (literally), and Thranduil tries to keep out the one person who can give him hope.**

* * *

"…don't understand why she waited so long."

Bain's words reached his ears as Bard was approaching the corner in the corridor that led to Tauriel's room. Thranduil's prompt reply, he had to admit, made perfect—if utterly maddening—sense.

"It is likely the wench desired to lure both Tauriel and your father into a false sense of complacency. If they thought her harmless, or thought of her not at all, their guard would then be down."

"And I fell for it like the fool that I am," Bard said as he came into their view.

Thranduil and the children stood immediately from the visitors' benches.

"Da, you're not a fool," Sigrid admonished softly.

"Like hell I'm not," he retorted bitterly. "I believed Dorna's actions honest when she was friendly to Tauriel before she left. I believed her motives pure when she suggested coming into our home to take some of the burden from Halia. What thanks did I receive in return for believing in her, for trusting her? She's attempted to murder my wife and child."

With those words uttered, what strength Bard possessed drained away and he fell to his knees. An anguished sob escaped him as he hit the floor and wrapped his arms around his head, as though to drown out the world.

It was some time, he knew not how long, before he took notice of hands on his arms. The owner pulled gently but firmly to lift him up, and he found himself looking into Thranduil's haunted gaze as the other man knelt before him.

"I know how you feel," he said softly. "It is a pain no man, mortal or immortal, should ever be made to endure."

Tauriel's words to Bain on the night of her confession came to him then, and Bard echoed them, saying, "I've already watched one woman I love die before my very eyes, when I was helpless to stop it. I cannot do that again, Thranduil."

"Dorna would give you nothing?" the elf asked.

Bard shook his head. "No. I would get the poison she used from her only if I promised to send Tauriel away—and that I would not do."

"That hateful witch," muttered a teary Sigrid.

"We could beat it out of her," suggested Tilda.

"No, Til," said Bain. "Though she deserves that and more, to do such would only bring us down to her level. We must not give in to so dark a desire."

"Your brother is, however much I wish it were not so, correct," Thranduil said slowly. "As much pleasure as it would give me at this moment to see this woman suffer, we would do little more than become what she is if we gave in to the urge to do her harm."

Bard did not tell them he'd already done so—even now he could feel her throat in his hand as he squeezed, could remember the perverse sense of satisfaction he'd gained in watching Dorna struggle to breathe.

But that was not who he was. It was not who he wanted to be, and Tauriel would never look at him the same way should she learn that he had killed someone because of her, even if that person was her attacker.

With great effort, he sat back on his heels, then struggled to his feet. Thranduil stood with him, and with the barest nod of acknowledgement Bard turned from him and walked to the door behind which his beloved lay and knocked with his fist. A moment later Gildan opened it.

Though his features were set to neutral, that he simply opened the door wider and stepped out of the way sent shards of fear ripping through Bard as he crossed the threshold. Tauriel lay on the bed covered by a thin blanket, her hands on top of one another over the mound of her stomach. Her eyes were closed and her pallor sickly.

Laivindil stood from a chair at the side of the bed with tears freely falling down her cheeks. "I…I am so very sorry, _hîr nín_. But I…we…I believe my Lady Tauriel is Fading."

He did not know how he made it to the chair without falling a second time. Tears spilled from his eyes as he took one of her hands in his.

 _This was not supposed to happen_ , he said to her silently. _It was my death you saw_ —I'm _the one who is supposed to die. Not you. Not our child_.

"H…how long…" Bard cleared his throat to force the words out. "How long do I have with them?"

"We do not know for sure, _hîr nín_ ," said Gildan softly.

"Thranduil, would you be so kind as to escort my children home? I'd like to be alone with my wife."

"We'll not leave you, Da."

It was an effort to bring his eyes up to Bain's. His son stood on the other side of the bed with Sigrid's hand clasped in his; she in turn held Tilda's.

"We are a family," his son went on, "and we will endure this together."

"I cannot ask you to watch as your second mother dies," Bard told him.

"You're not asking, Da," said Sigrid. "It is our choice."

Tilda reached for Tauriel's other hand. "We are a family," she repeated.

* * *

Late afternoon turned to evening. Somehow, Bard knew that Thranduil had ordered two of his men to stand guard outside Tauriel's door—Magnus and Tormen had taken a post at the door to the Healer's Hall to keep others from getting in. Word had naturally spread like fire to dry tinder, and the entire town had come by at one time or another to extend their sympathies or hopes for Tauriel's recovery.

Some had echoed Tilda's suggestion of subjecting Dorna to a beating to get the name of the poison from her, a pair of older ladies even having marched down to the jail to do so. Sylvi had been forced to lock the front door to keep them out, even though the shieldmaiden despised having to protect the woman who'd assaulted her future queen.

Sigrid, Tilda, and Bain had eventually been sent off to other rooms in the hall to take their rest, though they were reluctant to leave their father. Thranduil and his other two guards had done the same, the Elvenking having declared he would not return to his home until Tauriel's fate was "truly decided, for good or ill."

It was late at night—or very early the next morning, Bard had paid no heed to the passing of time—when loud, angry voices reached his ears. He lifted his weary gaze from Tauriel's still face to the door as the guards outside it charged away. Moments later, Bain threw the door open.

"Da, I know you don't want to leave her, but you've got to come," he said hurriedly. "I think they're like to kill each other."

An aggravated, tired sigh escaped him, but Bard nodded and slowly stood. He gently placed Tauriel's hand atop her other over their baby, then leaned down to kiss her brow. _I'll return shortly, my darling_ , he said to her silently, then reluctantly left the room with Bain in the lead.

In the foyer of the hall, Thranduil's guards as well as Magnus and Tormen had surrounded two other figures. One Bard recognized immediately as Thranduil himself, one of his twin swords drawn and clasped tightly in his hand. The other was a raven-haired man dressed in simple traveling clothes—were it not for the length of his tresses or the exposed point of his ear, Bard would have thought him to be a vagabond of Men.

"You will let me pass, Sinda, or so help me—"

"You'll do what, Ñoldo? Start the fourth kinslaying by killing me?" Thranduil shot back. "How do you think Tauriel would look upon you then, to have killed the only father she remembers?"

"You are _not_ her father! You are not even close to being kin to my granddaughter!"

"And _you_ are _not_ welcome here—go now before I am forced to draw the blood of my own kin."

"It is not for you to decide if I am welcome in these lands, Thranduil Oropherion—"

"Silence!" Bard bellowed. Every man looked to him then, and he lifted his arm to point in the direction he had come.

"My wife and child are dying in a room on the other side of this wall," he said. "If I am not with them as Tauriel breathes her last because I had to come out here to settle a six-thousand-year-old grudge, I swear by all that is holy I will kill you _both_ before I join them in the Halls of Waiting."

Both men had the decency to look ashamed. Bard shot another angry look at them before he turned on his heel and marched back to Tauriel, vaguely aware that Bain was now speaking to the group of men and elves. Moments after he took his place in the chair by her bed, her hand once more in his, he noted in his peripheral vision the entrance of the elf Thranduil had tried to bar from coming in. Thranduil himself was close behind and stopped in the open doorway.

"I grieve with thee, _Indyondo_ ," the dark-haired _ellon_ said slowly.

Bard looked up. "What did you call me?"

"I called you 'Grandson' in Quenya, my cradle-tongue."

"You are Maglor."

The elf nodded. "I am."

"What are you doing here?"

Maglor looked to Tauriel. "I was drawn to the east by an allure greater than any jewel, even the cursed Silmarils, could ever have: love. 'Twas hardly a moon after I left Imladris when I realized that though I still felt bound to my father's wretched stones, that bond was beginning to weaken—finally, after all these thousands of years. It had been replaced by a bond far stronger than any stupid vow."

"The bond of family," Bard said.

Lifting his gaze to his, Maglor nodded again. "Tauriel is my granddaughter. I found that I desired to see her bond with you renewed more than I wanted to be near the stone I threw into the sea."

A tear slipped from his eye as Bard looked to Tauriel's face. "We were reconciled, our love and our bond strengthened by the power of forgiveness. And now…now it was for naught, as one woman's blind jealousy and hate is taking them away from me."

He loosed a choked sob. "I can feel them dying. The bond we share weakens with every passing minute, and there is nothing I can do to stop it."

"Perhaps there is."

Bard's head snapped up at the words. "Whatever do you mean?"

"The _costa vilissë_ —the Challenge of Spirit," Maglor replied. "It is a test, and it can be dangerous."

"I don't care—I'll do anything for her, for our child," Bard said. He turned his gaze to Thranduil. "Why did not you or the other elves mention this to me?"

Thranduil scowled in Maglor's direction before the older elf said, "Because they are not family. Such a deep psychic connection can only be initiated by one who is blood kin."

When Bard looked back, Maglor regarded him with a stern expression. "I do not speak lightly when I say it is dangerous—for both of you. You will have to walk through the ether in search of Tauriel, that her _fëa_ may be strengthened before it departs her _hröa_ completely. You must remind her of her reasons to live."

"I've done that before, I will do so again."

"You can lose yourself in the ether, Bard," Thranduil warned. "That place between life and death has many seductive lures."

Even as Maglor nodded his agreement, Bard sat straighter. "The only thing that could possibly seduce me at this point is Tauriel," he said.

He looked to her pale face again and gave her hand a soft squeeze before returning his gaze to Maglor. "What must I do?"

The elf took Tauriel's other hand in his right as he held his left out to Bard. Once their hands were joined, Maglor told him to close his eyes. He instructed him to think of Tauriel, to think of their child, to concentrate on his love for them both.

It was but an instant later that his awareness of the living world fell away.


	68. Chapter 68

**Tauriel struggles with darkness...then is shown a little light.**

* * *

Tauriel was lost.

She had not a clue as to where she might be, only that it was not where she desired to be. Something had gone terribly wrong, and for the third time in her 600-plus years, she felt helpless.

And that, she knew, was not a word anyone who knew her would ever chose to describe her. But ever since drinking that bitter cup of tea Dorna had served her, that's what she had been. The taste itself had been nearly unpalatable, but Tauriel had chosen to endure at least one cup. She had wanted so very much to believe that she and Dorna could have, if not true friendship, then at least an amicable peace.

More the fool was she.

As she was swallowing the last of that one cup of tea, the _elleth_ had begun to feel strange. Her head buzzed and her vision swam, and she had raised her arm too late to block the large piece of wood she saw swinging toward her head.

Tauriel had found she could do little more than moan pitifully as Dorna dragged her down into the cellar. She could not make her limbs obey her commands to resist being tied up. Then Dorna was gone, and as soon as the light from the open door at the top of the cellar stairs had vanished…

…the real nightmare began.

Spiders. Goblins. Orcs. Smaug. All came to haunt her, and it was as if they were right there in the pitch black with her. Or rather, she was where they were:

The darkened paths of Mirkwood.

The burning rooftop in Halken.

Fire-ravaged Lake-town as the dragon made yet another pass.

The bloodstained streets of Dale where so many of her kin had fallen.

What made seeing each of them so much worse was her inability to fight back. Try as she might, she just couldn't _move_ —whatever had been in the tea had dulled her reflexes. She was only vaguely aware of the rope tying her hands and feet as the visions in her head worsened with each viewing. She wanted to run away, and could not. She wanted to fight back, but could not.

She could not summon her warrior spirit no matter what she did—it was as though that part of her, too, was bound. And that is when Tauriel began to truly feel afraid.

What had Dorna given her? What would it do to her—and more importantly, what would it do to her baby? Fear for the life of her unborn child spiked through her, and the visions became even more sinister. It was some time before she realized Bard was calling out to her, and it was difficult for her to fight through the weight holding her down to respond.

He was coming for her. Bard would come, and he would save her from her nightmare. Oh, but he didn't know where she was! She couldn't tell him—couldn't pull the information to mind. She could only confront one terrifying vision after another and pray that he would find her soon and make it all go away.

She was deep in the nightmares by the time the door at the top of the stairs opened again, and a small figure moved hesitantly down into the cellar. Tauriel was no longer truly aware of her surroundings, was not aware when Beric timidly reached out to place a hand on her knee—nor did she hear him when he whispered that everything would be all right, that he would get Mr. Bard to help her.

Moments later, shouting came from above where she lay, and mixed in with the terrifying images was a surge of feeling she could not quite grasp. She only knew that it was good and loving and she wanted so desperately to reach out to it, to take hold of that feeling and let it pull her from the edge of the abyss. It grew ever stronger as the moments passed, and then Bard was there before her. She tried to reach him—oh, he seemed so far away! All Tauriel could do was react to what she saw in her mind, as the poison seemed determined to drag her down into hell and keep her there.

Distantly she heard him telling her that he was getting her out, but when he touched her to pick her up, the worst of Tauriel's nightmares surfaced. She watched Bard die yet again, could hear her own cry of pain turn to a scream of terror as the vision changed and he was ravaged by orcs on a nameless battlefield.

Then finally she could endure no more and blackness claimed her.

* * *

Although her conscious mind shut down in an attempt to block out the horror of the poison-induced visions, Tauriel was not spared.

Time she had no ability to measure passed, during which she was forced to witness various scenarios of Bard dying, each one more gruesome than the last. She tried even harder to fight back, to save him, but whatever Dorna had put in the tea continued to prevent full use of her mental faculties. It felt as though she were trying to walk upriver against a current of raging rapids.

Reaching Bard before the next horrific death took him was simply impossible.

Tauriel eventually reached a point at which she could endure no more. Her heart metaphorically shattered beneath her breast as she did the one thing she never would have expected of herself:

She gave up. She simply did not have the strength to keep fighting anymore. Tauriel's soul wept for what now would never be—no future with Bard, however long it might have been. Their child would not be born, and that, to her, was a loss far greater than the ending of her own life. Worse than never having had the chance to know the babe was the knowledge that now Bard would never get to know him…or her.

"Tauriel Vanendilien, don't you dare give up. Not now. Not when you've come so far."

That voice… She knew that voice, though it literally had been centuries since last her ears had heard it.

"I never figured you for a quitter, _Pîn Cwingron_ ," said another familiar voice.

"It's too much," she managed as she forced her closed eyes to open. Tauriel gasped at the sight that greeted her:

Her parents, who smiled through worried expressions.

She blinked—they were still there. She looked around then and saw nothing but gray mist, before her gaze once more fell upon the couple standing before her.

" _Nana_? _Ada_?"

Lúnairien nodded, her smile brightening. "Yes, we are really here, _Pîn Cwingron_ ," said Vanendil.

Tauriel's heart stuttered at the nickname. "My little archer," he used to call her, ever since she had shown an interest in his bow. He'd been the first to teach her to use one, though Legolas had helped her perfect her skill with the weapon in later years.

"I have Faded, haven't I?" she asked. "You are here to escort me to the Halls of Mandos."

"No, dearest," her mother said, taking a step closer as she spoke. "You have not Faded yet, though soon you will if you do not keep fighting."

"I am so tired, _Nana_ ," Tauriel replied with a soft sob. "I do not know that I have any strength left to fight."

"Your _fëa_ is weary, yes, but there is life in you still—and strength to fight for it. You must only summon the will to do so," her father told her.

"If not for yourself, _iell_ , fight for your husband. Fight for the life of your child," Lúnairien added.

Tauriel's hands went automatically to her stomach. "You…know about Bard?"

Her parents chuckled, and she realized how silly the question sounded—of course they did, given she was pregnant.

"We have glimpsed you from afar many times," Vanendil told her. "It pleases us greatly that the mortal has brought you so much happiness."

She smiled as she thought of Bard, but her smile quickly fell as she realized he must be utterly heartbroken over what had happened to her.

"He has suffered a great deal of anguish over the attack," her mother said, as if reading her thoughts. "He has hardly left your side since he found you."

"I hate that yet again he sees me so weak and broken," Tauriel said.

Vanendil snorted lightly. "Fallible you may be, Little Archer—we are none of us perfect—but weakness is not a failing of yours. You were deceived and attacked by one in whom you had placed trust. It is she who deserves your derision, not yourself."

"I am at the least a poor judge of character."

Lúnairien shook her head. "You are not that either, _iell nín_. Desiring to see the good in all whom you meet is an admirable quality. It's not your fault the mortal female proved herself undeserving of your trust."

Filled suddenly with an urge she could not quell, Tauriel ran forward and threw her arms around her mother's neck. Lúnairien embraced her tightly, and but a moment later, Vanendil placed his arms around the both of them.

"I have missed you both so much," Tauriel said with a sob. "Not a day has gone by that I have not thought of you and wished you were with me."

"Oh Tauriel… We are always with you so long as you keep us in your memory and in your heart," her mother told her softly.

They stood together that way for several long moments, and then Tauriel drew back. After wiping her eyes, she took a deep breath and said, "There is something I must ask you, for I have a great need to know."

"You can ask us anything child, but do so quickly," her father said. "Our time here is almost at an end."

"So soon?" she asked. At his nod, she added, "I wish I could have more time with you. I haven't seen you in so long, and I remember so little about you."

Lúnairien lifted her hand to Tauriel's forehead, and the younger _elleth_ felt a warmth spread from where her mother's fingertips touched her skin. "When you wake, dearest, you will remember us clearly. But you must wake in order to claim those memories."

The older stepped back then. "Now ask your questions."

Tauriel looked between her parents, and was suddenly filled with the notion that they already knew what she was going to ask them—but she did it anyway. "Why did you not tell me I would be able to sense a familiarity with my blood kin? Did you know about our lineage?"

Vanendil raised an eyebrow. "We did tell you that Eldar can sense the nearness of blood kin, as any Elven parent would tell their child. As you say you do not remember us well, the sad truth must be that it is among the many memories of us you have forgotten."

Lúnairien looked to her husband, then back to Tauriel with a sigh. "Though I know my mother wished it were not so, I knew of my parentage. Or rather, I guessed it. After all, red hair is a distinctive trait of the House of Mahtan—father of Nerdanel, maternal grandsire of Maglor—for whatever reason Eru chose to bless him so. Did you know your twice-great forefather is a servant of Aulë? You are much like him in some ways, with a love of craftsmanship. And like you, he also has an appreciation for Aulë's children, the dwarves."

A flush crept up Tauriel's neck, though still she smiled. "But why did you tell me nothing of our lineage, _Nana_?" she pressed. "Did you think me not capable of handling the truth of who we are?"

" _Pîn Cwingron_ , though we may have acted in error, we did so with your best interests at heart," Vanendil said. "Your foremother, Eilaia, though a beautiful and kind _elleth_ , thought she was doing the right thing in not telling your mother who her father was."

"And I thought it best she continue to be happy in believing me ignorant of the truth," Lúnairien added. "I had come to believe at an early age that my father _must_ either be a son of Fëanor or that he was directly of the House of Mahtan. The latter was eliminated as a possibility through research, for when I looked into it I discovered that no son of his house had joined in the Revolt of the Ñoldor. So when I considered my red hair, my Begetting Day, and the fact that Fëanor had married Mahtan's only daughter…"

She paused for a breath before continuing. "Only three of Fëanor and Nerdanel's seven sons were married. After removing Curufin as a candidate upon discovering his wife bore him only one child, a son, and Caranthir because his wife bore him no children at all, Maglor was the only _ellon_ who could be my father."

"The kinslayings were a terrible time for the Ñoldor, Tauriel—it is one of the darkest periods in our history. And Maglor, though often said to be wiser than his brethren, was still as much a killer of our kin as they were," her father went on. "Your foremother did not want your mother to be shunned for being the daughter of a kinslayer, and we did not wish you to suffer that fate as the granddaughter of one. That Legolas and Thranduil despise Maglor without even knowing him is proof that hatred for his misdeeds still exists in Middle-earth."

Thranduil had, now that Tauriel recalled, focused more on the fact that she was born of royal blood than on precisely whom she had inherited it from. During their discussion, Maglor's name had only been spoken by her, and Thranduil had scowled deeply at its mention.

"And so, wishing to preserve the protection from hatred my mother had given me by saying nothing, your father and I chose to do the same for you. We passed ourselves off as Silvan-born elves and made our way to the east, where we had heard our kin lived simpler lives," Lúnairien said then. "Who we really were, we kept to ourselves."

"If you worried so what others would think of your lineage, why did you tell _Ada_?" Tauriel asked.

Her mother took her father's hand, looked at him again with a smile, and then turned back to her as she said, "Because I loved him. I felt that in order to give myself fully to him, he needed to know the truth of whence I came."

"And I already loved your mother so much that it mattered not to me who had sired her. I only knew I wished her to be my wife."

"But you did not tell _me_ ," Tauriel challenged. "Did you not love me enough to trust me with the truth? I'd have kept our secret if you so desired it—you only had to ask it of me."

Lúnairien expression fell. "Oh, dearest… It was our every intention to tell you, I swear it. It's just that there never seemed a proper moment to reveal something so life-changing as that."

Silence reigned for a time while Tauriel mulled over their explanation in her mind. "Why Silvan elves?" she asked finally. "Why not simply say you were Ñoldor?"

Vanendil fielded that question, saying, "Because so few personal questions were asked of Silvan elves in those days, especially those who chose to make their home in Greenwood. Had we said we were Ñoldor or claimed to be Teleri, as my father was—for very few true Teleri had left Aman—many would have questioned our desire to reside there. Thranduil would have questioned us. As it was, telling him we were Silvan elves from the west led to his all but dismissing us from further thought."

At that moment, Tauriel realized her parents were beginning to fade, and she stepped toward them with a soft cry. "Please don't leave me again! I need you. I'll forgive you everything you withheld from me if you'll just stay with me. Please, I have missed you so terribly!"

Tears slipped from her mother's eyes as she offered a sad smile. "We cannot stay, dearest. Ilúvatar has allotted us only a moment to speak with you, and though our time together has once again been far too short, I hope that you will take as much joy from this meeting as we will."

"Ilúvatar?" Tauriel queried with wonder. "Why would Eru send you to speak with me if not to lead me to Valinor?"

"Must you really ask, Little Archer?" her father countered. "We are meant to stir your desire to live."

"Why is it so important that I live in Middle-earth when I can simply let the Fading happen and be with you again?"

A deep but quiet rumble of laughter, such as the rolling of distant thunder, sounded then, and a gentle breeze stirred the mist surrounding them.

 _So many questions, my child_ , said a voice spoken by neither of the disappearing elves before her.

Tauriel looked around for the speaker. When she saw no one, she looked back to where her parents had stood and found them gone. Crying, she fell to her knees.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _Pîn Cwingron_ \- little archer


	69. Chapter 69

**I know I have not done this in a while, and for that I apologize, but I truly do thank and appreciate everyone who reads, favorites, and follows this story—especially those of you who take the time to leave a review. So very generous of you and I appreciate it so much.**

 **In this chapter, Tauriel meets two very different people...**

* * *

"Tauriel?"

No. She would not believe that Eru would do this to her.

"Tauriel, look at me. Please?"

Slowly, she pulled her hands away from her face, and once again she gasped at the sight before her.

Kíli.

Turning her eyes upward she said, "Oh Eru, _why_? If you wish me to live, why bring him here?"

"If it helps you any, I'm not even sure where 'here' is," Kíli said.

Tauriel laughed without humor as she returned her gaze to his. "I believe this place is the realm in between life and death," she said. "My people have often referred to it as the ether."

"Life and death? You mean I'm here because you're dying?"

"Yes."

Heavy footsteps moved toward her, and then his hands were on her arms. "No, _amrâlimê_ ," he said firmly as he lifted, and she was forced to put her feet beneath herself lest she fall.

"Oh, Kíli," Tauriel said as she swiftly turned away from him. "You will not wish to call me that when you see."

"See what? That you're with child? Sweetheart, I already noticed that," Kíli told her.

She turned around. "You did? Are…are you angry with me?"

The dwarf before her frowned. "Why would I be angry?" he asked.

"Because I did not even mourn you a full year."

Kíli reached forward and took her hand in his. "Your period of mourning is determined by you alone. Besides, I know you mourn me still." He paused and offered her a smile. "I can feel that you miss me, even though your heart now belongs to another."

Tauriel chanced a smile. "I do miss you. I miss your smile, and your laugh. I miss your silly jokes. And I miss the passion you had for life."

"And where is yours? Tauriel, one of the reasons I fell in love with you is because we shared that passion. Where has yours gone that you would want to die?"

She sighed as tears fell once more. "I don't _want_ to die, Kíli."

"Then live, damn it! Fight for your life, for that of the child you carry. Do you not understand that the babe will die with you if you give up?"

"Why would you care if my baby dies, Kíli? It's not your baby—"

"No, it is _your_ baby," he interrupted her. "And you are pleased it is coming, yes?"

Tauriel nodded, a smile returning to her lips. "I am indeed."

"Then I want this child to live because having it will make _you_ happy. And the father, he…he is good to you? He makes you happy?"

She looked at their joined hands, unable to hold his gaze as she spoke of her love for another. "Yes, he does. He is so good to me, Kíli. He is kind, and forgiving, and loving…"

Kíli took a deep breath. "Then live for him as well as the child you share, for I of all people know how heartbroken he will be if he loses you."

"Oh, my sweet dwarf prince... How noble you are to wish me happiness with another," Tauriel said.

"It matters more to me that you are happy than it does who brings you that happiness. I'd rather you were alive and with someone else than dead where I still cannot be with you," he retorted. "Unlike your kin, who are granted leave to depart the Halls of Waiting for Valinor, we dwarrow do not leave the Great Forge once we enter into it. We must bide our time there until the ending of the world. Even had we both died in the battle, or you die now, we would still be apart."

"How do you know that about elves?"

Kíli blinked, and then one eyebrow rose. "You know, I'm not entirely sure. It is as though the knowledge was just…there when I needed it.

"Look… Do I wish I had not died? You're damn right I do. Those few weeks we knew each other were the happiest of my life even if I did spend most of it behind bars, and I'd have given up my share of the treasure in Erebor if that's what it would have taken to be with you. I'd have defied my uncle and your king to be with you. And do I wish the child you carry was mine and not sired by another? I'm not afraid to admit the answer to that is yes as well—I'd so like to have married you and given you a child, or more than one, because I know how much you want a family of your own."

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then let it go with a sigh. His expression when he looked up at her was smiling but sad. "As much as I wish you were going to have a happy life and loads of children with me, you're not. It's too late for us. But you can still have them—you _will_ have them, if you get off that sweet arse of yours and fight to live."

Before Tauriel could think of what to say in reply, Kíli grabbed her hand again, brought the back of it to his lips…

…and then disappeared.

* * *

Tauriel wandered aimlessly in the mist. She didn't know where she was going, or if she was even going anywhere. As she walked, she thought of her parents. It was a relief to have the full truth at last, but she wondered if she'd be able to remember it should she return to the land of the living. Her mother had said she would have access to her memories of them, but would the meeting in the mist be among those memories?

And then there was Kíli. She could understand Eru sending her parents to encourage her to fight, but why him? Meeting with her, learning that she'd moved on and would have a child with someone else could only have caused him pain. Hurting Kíli was the last thing she would have wanted to do.

A sigh escaped her. Her mother, her father, even Kíli had encouraged her to fight for her life. For that of her child. But she felt so worn out from the fear those horrific visions had generated, so tired from what little fighting she had been able to do. Tauriel could summon desire for nothing more than to lay herself down and sleep forever.

"Truly, _Nana_? You won't even fight for me?"

Whirling, the _elleth_ now found herself facing a male figure walking slowly toward her. As he drew nearer, his features became more clear, and she noted that he looked exactly like Bard.

Well, Bard about fifteen or so years younger than he was now.

"Bard?" she queried as she stepped closer. No, he couldn't be. His hair was the same color as Bard's but shorter, cut in a style similar to Bain's but less shaggy.

The young man laughed as he stopped before her. "Only by half," he said as he turned his head and pulled back a lock of his hair, exposing the pointed tip of his ear. It reminded her of her own, though it was not as elongated.

"Who are you?" Tauriel asked.

He looked down and she followed his gaze, her eyes falling on her rounded belly. Tauriel snapped her head up again. "You can't be. The child is not even born yet!"

The boy grinned. "Eru can send whomever he likes wherever he wishes," he replied. "And though I am not yet born, my spirit already resides within the life growing inside you."

"I do not understand… How can you appear to me as you are if you are not yet born?" she pressed.

 _So that you see what he will become_.

Tauriel looked around as she had before, though she somehow knew she would not see the speaker of those profound words. When her eyes came to rest once more on the young man in front of her, she smiled slowly and tentatively raised a hand to his cheek.

" _Ion nín_ ," she whispered. "Is it truly you?"

His smile matched that of his father. "Indeed, _Nana_. How I look forward to meeting you in the living world. I'll not remember these moments with you, though I do not doubt you will."

"Why did Eru send you?" Tauriel asked.

"Apparently it is imperative that you live. My sister and I have each of us a part to play in the future of Middle-earth, and if you die now it will alter the course of those events."

Tauriel felt her eyes grow wide. "Sister?! Am I to bear twins then?"

Her son…her beautiful son…laughed. "No, there is only me inside your womb at present. My dear sister will not be born for a few more years…and the both of us only if you survive."

"But how can I?" she cried with anguish. "I tried to fight back, I promise I did! But I could do nothing against the visions that haunted me. Whatever poison was given me allowed me to do naught but cower in fear."

Taking the boy's hands in hers, she said, "Do you really think I _want_ to Fade? To miss watching you grow into the young man that stands before me? To meet the sister you say will come after you? My dearest child, you have no true understanding of how very much I want those things, how much I desire to witness the delight in your father's eyes as he watches you grow to look just like him."

"Then _fight_ for me, _Naneth_!" said the boy forcefully. "Fight for my sister, for the years and years of joy and laughter yet to come for our family. Do not let that vapid woman who desired to steal my father's heart defeat you so easily."

In her mind's eye, Tauriel saw the moment Dorna had kissed Bard, and she felt her hackles raise. "The best payback for her treachery _would_ be living, wouldn't it?"

Her son grinned. "Indeed it would," he said, then tilted his head as if in thought. "The poison remains within you, and it will make returning difficult."

"Then how do I fight against it when it wore me down so easily before?" she asked.

"Remember this moment. Remember that you will regain your memories of your own mother and father. And remember that your union with my father is blessed both by the man you loved before and the creator of all of us. You have so much to live for, _muin naneth nín_ —keep these thoughts in your heart and I know you will triumph."

The boy then dipped his head down and kissed her brow, before he stepped back from her and was engulfed by the mist.

A tear slipped free of her eye—how she missed him already. Then she felt movement in her abdomen and Tauriel was reminded that her son was still with her, and if she wanted to see him again, she needed to live.

Praying she was going the right direction, she turned toward a sliver of light that seemed very far away and started to run.


	70. Chapter 70

**To aideglzvrla and MiyonzMae: Thanks so much for following - I hope you continue to enjoy the story!**

 **To readergirl4985, Guest, Sparky She-Demon, Laurel, and Eryn: Thanks so much for the reviews! So happy you liked my portrayal of** **Kíli** **. Although he and her parents had an affect on her, they were people Tauriel had lost, that she'd relegated to her past. Seeing her son, a figure from her future - one that would not exist if she did not survive - is what helped renew her spark more than anything. Glad you liked seeing him as well. I so wish I could show you all the picture of Luke Evans that inspired the image of him I have in my head.**

 **Guest: I am honored that you would consider my head-canon as yours. *bows***

 **Eryn: I am so happy to have you back again! *hugs* But hey, you gotta take care of you first. _The Journey of Hearts_ will always be here waiting (at least as long as the Internet survives).**

 **And now, we walk with Bard through the ether...**

* * *

The sensation of falling pulled on him almost immediately, and only when he felt still did Bard open his eyes.

He found himself surrounded by a thick, swirling gray fog. What little light that filtered through the mist seemed as the sun fighting desperately to burn a hole in a blanket of storm clouds.

Ether, as Thranduil had called it, was an entirely appropriate descriptor.

He was here now—what next? With only the mist surrounding him, Bard had no idea which way to go. He knew not which way was east or which was west; he could not determine north or south. How the devil was he supposed to find Tauriel in all this nothingness?

"Go fishing, son."

Bard turned to his left at the sound of a voice he had not heard in over a decade. Stunned, he was, to find his father walking toward him.

"Da?" he queried. "What are you doing here—how did you even get here?"

"I've come to see you, of course," Galen replied. "Though the how is, I believe, the doing of The One."

The older man frowned. "Are you not happy to see your old da?"

"Of course I am," Bard returned, and the two embraced heartily. It felt so good to hold his father in his arms again, as it had warmed his heart just to hear his voice after so many years without it.

But this moment was temporary. Fleeting. Though Eru himself had arranged this meeting, he knew he could not take his father back with him.

"It is a great pleasure to see you again, Da," Bard said as they parted. "I have missed your company and your counsel."

"I've missed you as well, son," his father replied. "Hey, why don't you stay with me a while? We can catch up—you can fill me in on how much my grandchildren have grown. I don't doubt little Sigrid looks just like her mam."

He smiled at the compliment to his eldest daughter. "Sigrid very much has Aja's look about her," he said. "And I truly wish I could stay and visit with you, Da, but I cannot."

"Why not, Bard? Time has no meaning in this place."

Bard started to frown, until he recalled that Maglor had said he would be tested. He had admired his father a great deal. Had respected his wisdom and loved him—he'd been deeply wounded by his passing. Staying here to talk with him over everything that had happened in his absence might well begin to fill the hole in his heart that had been left behind when his father had died.

A part of him really did want to stay. But a greater part knew he could not.

He clapped a hand on his father's shoulder. "Perhaps here time is endless, but in the waking world it is not. There is precious little, in fact, in which I may complete my task. Someone of great importance to me is depending on me, and I cannot—I _will_ not—fail her. It really was good to see you, but… farewell, Father."

Turning, he started to walk away, though he stopped and looked over his shoulder when his father clapped his hands.

"Well done, son. The elf maid is lucky to have you," Galen said, and then faded into the mist.

* * *

He walked for what seemed like hours. Bard prayed with every step that Tauriel was not getting worse while he wandered lost though nowhere.

After a time he stopped, and stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes closed, hoping that a few deep, calming breaths would still his anxiety. As he breathed, he focused on the goal he wished to accomplish, how he wanted desperately to save Tauriel and the baby.

A pair of thin, pale arms slipped around his waist from behind. Relief flooded his veins and Bard turned around with a smile as he said, "I'm so happy you are here at last, Tau—"

Her name died on his lips, as it was not Tauriel who held him.

"Aja?"

"Who else would I be?" she replied, and stood on her toes to kiss him.

Bard stood frozen in shock as the wife he had lost nearly nine years before set back down on her feet, her head resting on his shoulder. Slowly, as though unsure if he should even touch her, he lifted his arms and embraced her warmly.

By the Valar, how he'd missed her. The warmth of her skin… the light, sweet fragrance of the soap she had used… the steady rhythm of her breathing. The way she held him was comforting and familiar. Aja had been everything he had ever wanted in a wife: beautiful, kind, generous, loving. She had given him three amazing children before her passing who reminded him of her each and every time he looked into their faces.

"How are the children?" she asked suddenly. "I miss them so much."

He felt a touch of sadness creep into the strange euphoria he was feeling. "They miss you as well. Sigrid is starting to look just like you, Bain is becoming more of a man every day, and Tilda bears your temperament."

Aja laughed. "I am sorry to have burdened you with another me."

Bard held her away from him and looked into her eyes with a smile. "Do not apologize for giving me one—nay, three—of the most precious gifts I have ever received. There are not words to express how much our children mean to me, nor to properly thank you for them."

At last he released her from his embrace and took a step back. "Why are you here in the ether?"

A thought occurred to him then, and looking around them at the unending mist, he hollered, "If her presence is meant to test my fidelity, then you have erred! I will not be swayed from my course!"

Aja frowned. "What are you talking about, Bard?"

He looked back to her. "You died, Aja. Nine years this winter."

"I know," she replied, then reached for his hand. "But that doesn't matter now—we're together again, as we were always meant to be."

Bard shook his head. "No, we are not. I am sorry if this hurts you—perhaps your spirit was brought here under false pretenses—but I have moved on. I grieved for you, Aja, for many months. One might even say years. But time has passed—my heart has healed, and now it is held by another."

"You…you've found someone else?"

"Yes, and I love her deeply."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "Do you love her more than me?"

He shook his head again. "I do not love her more, I love her differently—for you are each of you precious to me in your own way."

Bard then took her other hand in his and held both of hers between his own. "My dearest Aja… I love you. I will _always_ love you. For twelve years—from the very first day of our courtship to the day you left us—I was the happiest man in the whole of Middle-earth. I could not have asked for more than you gave to me. But… our time is over. I did not want it to be, but it is. And as difficult as doing so was, I had to move on with my life without you in it for the sake of our children.

"I did not expect to ever find another who could capture my heart, but it happened. Tauriel is actually like you in many ways—she is intelligent and resourceful, beautiful and brave."

"But does she love you in return? Does her heart burn for you as mine once did?"

He nodded. "Aye. She does."

"Of course she loves you," Aja said with a sigh. "How could she not? You are the bravest, most hardworking and forthright individual I have ever known—not to mention the handsomest man to ever walk the piers in Esgaroth."

"Please believe me, it has been the greatest of pleasures to be granted this time with you," Bard told her. "To see your breathtaking face once more, to be able to tell you that our children have grown into three young people you would have so much pride in your heart would burst."

He sighed as he slowly released her hands. "But there is another now who has my love, and she needs me. The child she carries within her needs me. I cannot fail them as I failed you."

Suddenly the sadness that had seemed to envelop Aja was gone, and a brilliant smile lit her countenance. "You did not fail me, Bard. You gave me twelve of the most incredible years of my life. You gave me three precious babies, the jewels of my heart. My dying of an illness you could not cure is in no way a failure on your part. From the very beginning to the very end, you did the best thing a man can ever do for a woman—you loved me. I could have asked no more from you than that."

She stepped toward him then and lifted up on her toes, this time to kiss his cheek. "I do hope the elf knows how very fortunate she is to have your love," she whispered.

Bard chuckled. "I'll be sure to remind her."

Aja stepped away from him, and continued walking backward as she said, "Go now, Bard. Find her, and remember that you are truly blessed to have loved not just once, but twice in a lifetime. Be sure to tell our children how very much their mother loves them, and not to worry about me. Eru sees to the comfort of all his children."

With that she turned away from him. He watched her go until she, too, faded away in the mist. Bard sighed and turned away from the spot, though his heart was not heavy. In truth, he felt some relief at having been allowed to see and speak with her, for he had believed he'd failed her when he'd been unable to procure medication that might have helped her. That she did not blame him was a burden lifted from his heart.

 _Aja only ever wished you to be a good father to your children, and she is proud of all you have accomplished. So am I_.

Bard paused in mid-step. "If you are who I think you are, then I beg you—torment me no longer. Take me to Tauriel that I might return with her to the living world. Let her live. Let our child be born!"

There as a bright flash far off in the distance to his left. He had to close his eyes against it, but when it faded there was still a muted white glow breaking the monotony of the mist.

 _Follow the light, my son_.

He didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

 **Hey Sparky... guess what's next? Hehehe...**


	71. Chapter 71

**Thanks once again goes out to my reviewers: readergirl4985, Laurel, Sparky She-Demon, and Eryn. So glad you all liked my inclusion of Bard's first wife. I figured since Tauriel had seen her first love, naturally Bard had to see his - and honestly, I think they both needed to look at them, acknowledge their feelings for them, and then truly let them go, having recognized that their once troubled hearts were now healed.**

 **Sparky, this one is for you. Thanks for the inspiration. :)**

* * *

 **Just in case you didn't know, Thranduil Oropherion is devious. And rather a touch vengeful, if this and the next chapter are any indication...**

* * *

Thranduil watched as Bard and Maglor joined hands over Tauriel's body. He was instantly aware when the former's consciousness entered the nether-realm, for the strength of his _fëa_ dropped dangerously low.

 _If only the kinslayer could get himself lost in the ether_ , he mused darkly. Sadly, there was little chance of that happening. The son of Fëanor was merely a conduit through which Bard's spirit could travel to the nether-realm—he was not going there himself. In a few minutes' time he would regain awareness and they would be forced to endure his company for however long it took Bard and Tauriel to return to the waking world.

He looked then over to the mortal who had somehow picked up the pieces of Tauriel's broken heart—her broken spirit, even—and put them back together. Truth be told, he was a little in awe of the man; the dwarf too, if he were honest with himself. Thranduil knew Tauriel cared for Legolas. She had numerous male friends in the Guard with whom she was close. Yet in all the many years he'd known her, no _ellon_ had managed to capture her attention and devotion quite like Kíli or Bard.

Well, Legolas might have eventually, if he'd not been such a bastard and cautioned her against encouraging his son's affections. Oh, what he would do now to take back his prejudiced words... But the past was the past, and he could not change it.

As it was, knowing now from whence she came it made an odd sort of sense that Tauriel had fallen for one of Aulë's children: only an elf descended from a devotee of their creator could possibly love a dwarf.

Bard was a different entity altogether. One of the Thirdborn, he would not even live as long as the dwarf would have. But he was handsome according to the standards of his kin, as well as tall and strong and honest. Hardworking, fair-minded, and brave were other terms he'd heard associated with him—and the Elvenking agreed with them all. But it was his compassion for others Thranduil admired most (that and his stubbornness, so like himself at times), for it was that quality which had seen Tauriel's wounded soul and fought to save it, binding them together from the start.

Likely without either one of them realizing it.

"I do hope you find her, _mellon nín_ ," he whispered.

"What is going on here?" Bain asked as the boy came up behind him.

Thranduil stopped him as he brushed by to enter the room. "Do not disturb them. What they are doing is dangerous enough—any interruption could put them all at risk."

"What are they doing?" Bard's son pressed.

Laivindil, the Dúnadan healer, appeared then. "The _costa vilissë_? Is Prince Maglor mad?!"

The elf king smirked. "Most likely the answer to that is 'yes'."

Bain turned around and scowled. "What is this ' _costa vilissë_ '?" he demanded.

"It is a Quenya term for the Challenge of Spirit, _hîr nín_ ," Laivindil replied. "It is a very dangerous test in which one's consciousness travels to the nether-realm."

"The nether-realm?"

"My kin often refer to it as the ether," Thranduil said. "It is a realm in between life and death, where troubled spirits are often drawn, deterring them from reaching the Halls of Mandos. The fortunate among us will never experience that place."

"But why would my father do this…test…if it is so dangerous?" Bain asked, his gaze once more on his father.

"For Tauriel."

The healer moved past to stand next to Bain, though she turned back toward the _ellon_ and said, "Tell me you explained just how risky this is. Tell me my Lord went into this knowing full well that there is a very real chance we could lose not only Tauriel and the baby, but him as well?"

Thranduil returned her haughty glare with a withering stare of his own. "He was warned, Healer," he said, then lifted his gaze to Maglor. "But you have seen Tauriel's condition for yourself, as have I, and though I am loathe to agree with a kinslayer, he was right about one thing: the _costa vilissë_ is the only hope we have, at this point, of stopping Tauriel Fading completely."

"Then we are fortunate the prince came to see his granddaughter," Laivindil said.

Bain turned to him once more. "Why did you try to stop him coming in here?"

"I attempted to bar his entry on principle, because I hate him. I hate him and everything he has done to my people," Thranduil replied without hesitation. "That _ellon_ is personally responsible for thousands of Elvish deaths."

"The kinslayings ended over an age ago, _hîr nín_ ," said Laivindil softly. "He has not taken the life of a single elf in more than six thousand years."

He favored her with a stern glare. "The first life he took of our kin was one too many."

"Arguing over what the fellow did a few hundred lifetimes ago is pointless," Bain interrupted them in an exasperated tone. "I say if he's not killed anyone except to defend his own life or that of another since the last of your kinslayings, let the past remain where it is. What matters right now is that he's Tauriel's grandfather and the only hope we have of saving her and my brother."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Brother?" he queried. "How do you know the child is male?"

Bain shrugged. "I don't. But Tauriel started saying 'he' a few days ago so she wouldn't have to keep saying 'he or she' all the time. I suppose it's stuck in my head."

The Elvenking snorted lightly—it was just like her to simplify things wherever she could, though he hoped for her sake she'd not be calling a daughter "he" for the next six months.

He noticed then through the window that dawn was breaking. A thought occurred to him and his lips turned up in a wicked grin.

"What are you thinking, Thranduil?" asked Bain, who now gazed at him with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, what is going on in that devious Elven mind of yours?" added Laivindil.

"Yesterday you said there were a number of plants growing about the city which could have caused the Lady Tauriel's condition, did you not?"

Laivindil's eyes narrowed to match Bain's expression. "Yes," she said, drawing out the word. "Why do you ask?"

Thranduil flashed a grin. "Because with Lord Bard occupied—thus unable to object—we can now deliver a measure of justice to Tauriel's attacker."

The girl's eyes widened in shock and she gasped. Bain stepped closer, saying as he did so, "And what makes you think I'll not object? I am his heir and therefore in command of this city until he is…conscious again. Besides that, you agreed yesterday that we should not act out of a desire for vengeance or we would become what she is."

Looking back with one eyebrow raised in question, Thranduil asked, "Do you object to a criminal receiving punishment for her crime?"

Bain looked between him and Laivindil, before his expression hardened and he said, "That depends on what you have in mind."

* * *

Though he had met her briefly that spring, Dorna took Thranduil somewhat by surprise. She had, he reluctantly admitted, a very lovely face. Her figure appeared to be slim and firm, her hair was a pale shade of blonde and naturally wavy. Yes, he could see why men found her attractive—hers was an appearance guaranteed to turn heads.

But time and experience had taught him that a beautiful visage was _not_ a guarantee that the personality beneath it would be just as lovely…and Dorna had already proven hers was as ugly as an orc.

The hateful glare she turned his way gave him a clearer understanding of why Beric had given her the moniker "the mean lady".

"If you think I am going to speak to you, elf, you are mistaken," Dorna said haughtily.

"Considering you have just done so, it would appear I am not," Thranduil replied casually.

The prisoner snorted, then crossed her arms over her chest and turned her face away.

"I thought perhaps you might like something to eat," the elf went on, gesturing to Sylvi who was waiting just out of Dorna's line-of-sight. The shieldmaiden walked up pushing a serving cart, on which was set a plentiful breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and hotcakes, along with a glass of juice and one of tea to wash it all down with.

"It came to my attention you were denied meals yesterday. The guards have been reprimanded for their oversight."

"Wasn't an oversight," Sylvi muttered on cue as she unlocked the cell door and shoved the cart in.

Once she had re-secured the cell, Thranduil dismissed her with a flick of his hand. "You may go, Sylvi."

The soldier harrumphed, but did as she was told. Thranduil then lowered himself into the chair that sat across from the line of cells. At first, Dorna stubbornly refused to acknowledge the food.

"If you don't eat it, it will only be fed to the pigs. Would you really have a dirty animal eat better than you?" he asked her.

His words had the desired effect; she moved down the stone bench to sit by the cart and immediately began to shove food into her mouth. Thranduil set his expression to impassive, disgust for her lack of restraint and manners growing as he watched her eat.

"Do not think," Dorna mumbled between mouthfuls, "that I will show you gratitude."

"Such thoughts have not entered my mind," he replied.

She took a drink of the juice, then finished off the bacon. "I will say, curiosity bids me ask: Why are you here? I will not be intimidated into giving up the poison. Speaking of which, the whore who bewitched Bard ought to be dead soon, I should think. I'm surprised you're not crying over her, being a fellow elf and all."

It was an effort for Thranduil not to lash out at the snide remark. Her lack of respect for the dying only added to the contempt he already felt for her; the complete absence of a conscience was even more disturbing.

"I am here because I desired to meet with the one person in all of Middle-earth who was able to outwit so deadly a soldier of my Guard as Captain Tauriel. That you were able to deceive her is truly remarkable, as she has been trained to detect poison in food and drink."

Dorna, as he'd suspected, grinned over her plate. "Perhaps she's not as bright as you think."

 _Neither are you_. "Perhaps not," he conceded with a nod. "Perhaps also I should consider myself fortunate she did not attempt to play her tricks on me."

"Oh, no doubt!" Dorna exclaimed. "Though better for me had it been you and not Bard."

"Then Bard is a fool."

She froze, a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth. "You stop right there, elf—I'll not allow any insults against Bard. He's a good man."

"Why do you defend him?" Thranduil asked. "After all, did he not choose an Elvish harlot over your own exceptional beauty?"

Dorna blinked, then smiled before she finally ate what was on her fork. "I'm certain she cast a spell on him," she said. "Your kind all have some measure of magical ability, do you not? Clearly she realized she could not possibly hope to capture your affections, so she set out to ensnare another powerful man."

 _As I am certain you would, had you the chance_ , Thranduil mused as she finished the eggs and drained the last of the juice. She was soon halfway through the hotcakes and was reaching for the cooling cup of tea when he asked her, "Would you know?"

Her brow knit together. "Would I know what?"

Holding her gaze, he said simply, "If you had been bewitched…or poisoned."

* * *

 **Dun dun dun!**


	72. Chapter 72

**Another hearty thank you goes out to those who reviewed chapter 71: Sparky She-Demon, Lordienne, Laurel, and Eryn.**

 **Sparky: So happy you thought it was worth the wait!**

 **Lordienne & Laurel: He did indeed, though he had a little help.**

 **Laurel & Eryn: Thank you so much for your thoughts on how I write Thranduil. He's one of those canon characters that I constantly worry whether or not I'm getting him "right".**

* * *

 **Justice is about to be served and Bard is about to get his wish.**

* * *

Dorna had just taken a swallow of the tea as he spoke.

She held the cup away from her face and looked into it with suspicion, then flicked her eyes to him. "You're trying to trick me," she said, though she set the cup down and pushed the cart away from her.

Thranduil allowed his anger and loathing to rise to the surface. Dorna started at the change in his expression as he slowly rose to his feet.

"You are an imbecile, woman, if you believed that I would sit idly by and do nothing when a citizen of my realm has been so brutally assaulted," he said, his tone scathing. "Tauriel was one of the finest captains in my Guard. She is a princess of the Ñoldor, heir to the House of Finwë—she has more nobility in the smallest of her bones than you have in your entire being."

Dorna blinked and shook her head, then raised a hand wipe it across her brow.

"Right this moment you ought to be experiencing the first effects of the poison that was added to your food," Thranduil said.

"You wouldn't!" the prisoner declared with a gasp. "Bard wouldn't allow it!"

With a smirk, he retorted, "Bard is not here."

Dorna shot to her feet, stumbling on the first step she took. She lifted her gaze to him and he smiled with near sadistic satisfaction at the fear in her eyes.

"How interesting to see firsthand the process of death from the very beginning," he mused.

Taking the cart with the remains of her breakfast in hand, Dorna heaved it to the side, spilling the contents. She then made to rush at the cell door but tripped over a wheel of the cart she'd just turned over and fell to the stone floor.

"Oh, my head," she moaned. "I'm so dizzy… What the devil did you put in my food?"

Thranduil stepped up to the bars and dropped smoothly into a squat. He tilted his head and observed her for a moment before saying, "What was it you said to Bard yesterday? The guards told me… Oh yes. I believe it was something along the lines of _wouldn't you just love to know_?"

He stood again as Dorna clumsily reached through the bars in an attempt to grab him. She gasped then and backed up against them, kicking her legs.

"Get off of me!" she screeched.

Thranduil chuckled, perversely pleased to see her subjected to even a fraction of the horror Tauriel had been forced to endure. Dorna turned around suddenly and grabbed the bars, weakly pulling herself to her feet.

"My Lord Thranduil, please," she begged. "Do not make me go through this nightmare. I… I am a woman in love. I did only what was necessary to secure my happiness and my future. Please, tell me what you gave me."

Holding her gaze squarely, Thranduil allowed another smile to form, then simply said "No," before he turned around and walked away.

* * *

They could hear her screams in the receiving area of the jail. Thranduil's grin widened as did Sylvi's. Laivindil, who had reluctantly helped him with this little venture, flinched as Dorna's cries increased in volume.

"How long, do you think, before she gives up the poison she used?" the shieldmaiden asked.

"Not long at all," the Elvenking replied. "As she has not yet confessed, we could easily have used any number of poisons, including the same as she."

"But what _did_ you give her, if I might ask?"

Laivindil turned to the plant samples they had brought. "These are argyreia, known in Westron as woodrose; datura, known as jimson; and artemesia, known as wormwood," she said, pointing to each in turn. "The woodrose is growing on nearly every wall in the city and has probably been mistaken for common ivy. Jimson's flowers are pretty but not a garden-variety plant, and wormwood is clearly a weed and most people here likely cut it down or otherwise remove it from flowerbeds. Each has hallucinogenic properties when smoked or consumed, and each is deadly in high doses. Ironically, they all can be used medicinally as well. Few know anything about what these plants can do unless they've read or been otherwise taught about them."

She turned to the taller woman, saying, "As much as it went against my healer's oath to harm none, I was…persuaded…to dose Dorna's breakfast with a taste of her own poison. Not knowing which she used, I added a little of each—just enough to frighten her, not enough to cause permanent damage."

"I don't think anyone would have cared if it did," Sylvi pointed out.

" _I_ would have cared," Laivindil countered. "I am a healer, not an executioner. Lord Bard has not yet decided her fate and it is not my place to act in his stead."

" _Jimson!_ " Dorna screamed then. " _I drugged the bloody tea with jimson—are you happy now?! Please, help me! Give me something to make it stop!_ "

Laivindil gasped and muttered in Sindarin as she looked to the plant.

Thranduil looked at the healer. "Is knowing what the poison was helpful at this point?"

She nodded. "Even if the _costa vilissë_ is successful, Lady Tauriel is likely still to have some of the poison in her system. Knowing specifically what that poison is better enables me to treat her, for now I know precisely which anti-toxin to use. Excuse me."

She grabbed the plant samples from the desk and hurried out. Thranduil looked to Sylvi. "My apologies, madam, for the screaming you will be forced to endure. Should not last more than a few hours, I believe."

Sylvi snorted and moved to sit behind the desk, then looked up at him with a smile. "Your Majesty, knowing what she did to Tauriel, that annoying blubbering will be music to my ears. Personally, I'd rather she suffered more than a few hours, since there's chance we might still lose the lady and her child."

Thranduil's smile fell and he nodded once, then turned for the door.

"One more question, my Lord, if I may?"

He turned back to her. "Yes?"

"What do you think Bard will do once he discovers what we've done?"

"I suspect he will bluster about our taking action without his consent, but then he may yet surprise me and simply be glad we did not kill her."

Sylvi snorted. "Better for all if we had, I say."

Thranduil inclined his head in agreement. "If Mandos chooses to ignore Bard's pleas and calls Tauriel home, there is no doubt that Dorna _will_ be executed, and justly so for she will have taken not just one but two lives. However, we must continue to hope that your lord is successful in his endeavor to bring her back to us."

"But what will happen to Dorna if he does?"

His lips formed into a wicked grin as he answered, "For one of her ilk, there are far worse punishments even than death."

* * *

The light grew almost blinding as Bard drew nearer. He endured it because he knew where it would lead him—or rather, to whom. With his few words, Eru—The One himself—had promised he would find Tauriel there.

Suddenly, in the middle of the white light, a figure appeared. Tall and thin it was, and around the head was a red glow like flames.

"Tauriel," he said on a breath, and began to run.

* * *

The sliver of light grew brighter the nearer she drew to it. Tauriel had slowed to a walk a while back, but she picked up the pace when a figure appeared silhouetted in the center of the white light.

No mistake could be made this time as to who it was.

Tauriel began to run again, and when at last she reached the light and met him there, she threw her arms around Bard's neck and held him tighter than ever she had before.

"Oh, _meleth nín_ —I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you!" she cried into his shoulder.

"And I you, my beautiful darling!" he replied, holding her just as tightly. "I came to remind you of the reasons you should live, but it would appear I do not have to."

Tauriel stood back and looked at him, her hands holding his face. "How did you even get here? I beg you, tell me you're not harmed in any way—I could not bear it if you were!"

Bard kissed her brow, her nose, her lips, before saying, "Do not fear for me, my darling. Your grandfather appeared quite suddenly, and when he learned of your attack he said there was a chance to save you. I had to take it."

"The _costa vilissë_ then?" He nodded. "Oh, Bard! Did he not tell you how dangerous it could be? This is the realm between life and death—we could yet be trapped here!"

He lifted his hands to her face, holding her as she did him. "Tauriel, I would walk through hell to find you," he said. "And if Eru brought us together only to keep us here, then so be it. At least I am with you and our child."

The laugh that had sounded to her as distant thunder rumbled again. The light then intensified around the two of them and they wrapped their arms around each other once more. Tauriel felt as though she were falling, falling far down a great chasm.

Then suddenly she stopped. With a soft gasp, she opened her eyes slowly and found herself in a small room with white walls. Looking to her right, she saw Bard by her side, smiling as tears fell from his eyes.

"Welcome back, my darling," he whispered, then leaned forward to kiss her softly.

No kiss had ever been sweeter.


	73. Chapter 73

**To readergirl4985, Sparky She-Demon, Lordienne, and Laurel - thank you all so much for the reviews!**

* * *

 **Tauriel's grandfather points out a few things she hadn't thought of...**

* * *

When Bard sat back, his eyes as he looked at her were tired but full of love…and relief.

"How are you feeling, Tauriel?" he asked.

She sighed, then smiled weakly. "As though I have yet again survived a bloody, brutal battle for my life. It is an experience I should not like to repeat again—I've had enough for all the lifetimes I shall live."

Bard nodded. "If Laivindil and Gildan are to be believed, and I have found no reason to doubt them, you were indeed in a fight for your life, my darling. We…we nearly lost you both."

Tauriel reached a hand to touch his cheek, and he leaned into her palm with his eyes closed. "I am sorry I was not stronger."

His eyes flew open. "Do not berate yourself, Tauriel. You are the strongest person I know—surely you fought as well as you could against the poison you were given."

"That's just it, _meleth nín_ —I could not fight it at all," she countered. "It was as though my mind as well as my body were weighted down by that filth."

"There, do you see? You could not help it the poison just happened to be stronger than you. Thranduil said you were especially susceptible because you are with child."

He reached a hand over to her belly and laid it there. The baby pushed against the wall of her womb just beneath his hand, as though acknowledging him. The movement brought a wide smile to Bard's face.

"Our son is once again happy to hear his _ada_ 's voice," Tauriel said with a smile.

Bard looked to her. "You keep saying that we are to have a son, but there's no way to know until the birth."

"At first I did so simply for conversation's sake, but truly, I know now that our _gwinig_ is male. He came to me, Bard—the spirit of our child came to me in the ether and begged me to fight for him."

His eyes widened in surprise as he looked from her own to where his hand lay. "A boy," he whispered, almost to himself. "We're going to have a boy!"

"Eru sent him to me as he will appear when he is a young man," Tauriel went on. "He looked just like you, _meleth nín_. And he had my ears, though thankfully they were not so large as my own."

Bard smiled. "I would not have cared were they the same size, for I love your ears. I love every single part of you," he said as he leaned forward and kissed her again. He then shifted and placed a kiss on the rise of her belly and added, "Hello, my son. I love you, too."

A moment of contented silence passed between them. Tauriel broke it, saying, "Where are we—the Healer's Hall?"

He nodded. "Would you like me to send for Laivindil or Gildan?"

She shook her head, then with a moan she scooted over in the bed. "Not just yet. Right now I would rather like for my husband to hold me."

With another smile, Bard obliged her request, climbing carefully into the bed and laying on his side, as there really was not room for both of them. Tauriel rolled slightly so that she could lay her arm over him as he wrapped his around her. The two sighed in tandem, each closing their eyes and drifting off into sleep.

* * *

When Tauriel opened her eyes sometime later, she found herself looking into Bard's. In them she saw a wealth of emotion…and unshed tears.

"Why are you set to weep?" she asked softly. "There is nothing to fear—I am on the mend now."

"I almost lost you, Tauriel. I almost lost our child," Bard replied. "I could literally _feel_ your spirit weakening. To look upon you now and see you alive and well brings such profound joy and relief to my heart, I cannot help but shed a tear or two."

She lifted a hand to his cheek. "I am sorry you had to go through that, Bard. But you need not worry anymore—I am stronger now, and I grow in strength each moment."

Bard sighed, then offered her a smile. "I know," he said. He then placed a light kiss on her nose and rolled to slip out of the bed, and returned to the chair beside it he had occupied before. The contemplative look he now regarded her with made Tauriel raise a questioning brow.

"What are you thinking, _meleth nín_?" she asked.

"That I shall arrange a permanent guard for you today," Bard replied.

Tauriel's expression changed to a frown. "I hardly think that is necessary. I can defend myself."

"Of that there can be no doubt, but it is not a question of your ability to defend yourself, _hiril nín_. I know you are a skilled warrior with centuries of experience, but your former king and your husband are equally capable of defending themselves, and yet neither is without an armed shadow or two whenever they are outside their halls."

Her frown deepened as the _elleth_ realized he'd just used her own argument against her. _Well played, husband_ , she thought.

Bard flashed a grin in response, then sobered and added, "Do not think that I am singling you out, my darling. The children shall also each have a guardian assigned to them. I will no longer risk your life or theirs even amongst the people of this city, for sadly it has been made clear that not even our own kin can be completely trusted. I will ensure that my family is safe."

On hearing those words, Tauriel knew she could protest no further, however much she may have wanted to. Bard had been given too many reasons to fear for the lives of those he loved, and it was clear she would not sway him even if she tried.

Deciding a change of topic was in order, she said, "Speaking of family, did you not say my grandfather was here?"

Bard nodded. "Aye, he is—and it is good he came. Though in the end you found your own strength to fight and my entering the ether proved unnecessary, only he could have enabled me to go there in search of you."

"Yes, I have heard that only a blood relative can create such a metaphysical conduit," she mused. "Will you find him and show him in? I'd very much like to visit with him."

He gave another nod and then stood. "As you wish," Bard said, before bending to kiss her lightly. He then turned and made for the door, where apparently Maglor was waiting just outside of it, the two males exchanging places in moments.

"How do you feel, _Indyeldë_?" he asked as the door closed behind him.

Stifling a groan as she moved to sit up, Tauriel replied, "Quite well, thank you."

Maglor raised a questioning eyebrow when her efforts failed and she dropped back down on her back with a huff.

"All right, I am feeling a bit weak," she conceded. "My mouth is also dry and my stomach rather sour, come to think of it."

"You may yet be feeling some side effects of the poison you ingested. Laivindil has prepared an elixir for countering those effects—should I have her bring you a draught?" her grandfather asked.

"I would like that, thank you. I don't like feeling ill, and I would certainly like to be excused from this bed sooner rather than later."

Maglor nodded and turned back to the door. Opening it, he poked his head out and she heard him speak directly to Laivindil; a moment later he closed it again.

"Come, sit beside me, _Haru_ ," Tauriel said, gesturing toward the chair to her right. "It has been only a few months since last we spoke—I honestly thought it would be years before ever I saw you again."

Offering a smile as he sat, Maglor replied, "As did I. But as I explained to your _herven_ , it was not long after leaving Imladris that I felt drawn to the east. My desire to see you reunited with your beloved became stronger than that which had led me to return to my cottage by the sea."

"So you are no longer bound to the Silmarils?" Tauriel asked.

"I am still, but that bond is weakening, at long last," he told her. "For that I must thank you, _Indyeldë_. Meeting you and learning that our bloodline continues through your child, your acknowledgment of me as your grandfather and allowing me to…to love you… That pure, honest love and acceptance, untainted by the evils of my past… There is no greater power, it would seem. You have saved me."

Tears stung Tauriel's eyes. She had never imagined she would, or even could, have that kind of impact on a person. The sadness that seemed an inherent part of Maglor's aura was still there, but it was lessened. He seemed truly happier than he had even when learning they were kin. The guilt and shame were lessened as well, and for that she was glad. She knew some would argue he deserved to hate himself, that he should for however long he lived, but it pleased her he was beginning to feel better about himself. Certainly neither he nor should anyone else forget the past, but the key to putting it behind them and moving forward was forgiveness.

Maglor would hopefully forgive himself someday, as she had learned to forgive herself her own mistakes through the love and forgiveness of Bard and the children.

She held out a hand to him and Maglor reached for it with a smile. A moment later there was a knock at the door and Laivindil stepped in holding a small phial. She came to the opposite side of the bed from Maglor and, reaching a hand under Tauriel's head, told her, "Drink this, _hiril nín_. It will help ease the remaining symptoms of the poison."

Tauriel did as asked without question. The concoction was sharp, but not entirely bitter, and she thanked the healer for bringing it. Laivindil smiled and told her thanks was not necessary, before departing from the room.

When the Dúnadan had gone, Tauriel looked to Maglor. Silence reigned for a long moment before they both laughed softly; apparently neither of them knew where to begin. So Tauriel decided to take the lead, and began describing her adventures as she had traveled east on her way home. Maglor snorted when she recounted her confrontation with Galadriel.

"Why do you laugh?" she asked. "Looking back on it now, I feel rather embarrassed by the affair. Though my anger was just, I should not have confronted so noble a lady in such a manner—and in front of witnesses, no less."

"You have no reason to feel guilty, _tyenya_ —"

" _Tyenya_?"

Maglor chuckled. "It is Quenya for 'dear kinsman', and is often used by speakers of the language as an endearment when spoken to a member of their family. We really should enrich your understanding of the ancient language, as I often slip Quenya into my conversations, forgetting that not all Eldar in Middle-earth speak that tongue with fluency, if at all. Elrond has spoiled me, in that sense, for it was his cradle-tongue also and he taught it to his children."

Tauriel smiled. "I would like to learn if you are willing to teach me…that is, if you will stay with us longer than a week."

"I traveled nearly three months to get here—I think I can give you more than seven days," he said with a laugh.

Clearing his throat then, he said, "As I was saying, you should not feel guilty for having given our cousin a talking-to such as you did. Noble she may be, but Galadriel is not infallible—she does make mistakes. It's good that she is reminded of that now and again, that she does not forget she is not Eru. It is not her place to play god."

"But she is of such greater status amongst our kin than I. I am but a lowly Guard, and not even that anymore," Tauriel protested.

Her grandfather scoffed. "Have you forgotten to whom you are related? Tauriel, you are a princess of the Ñoldor, a direct descendant of the senior line of High King Finwë. If you wish to dwell on rank, _tyenya_ , technically you are above her."

She frowned. "Impossible."

Maglor shook his head, though he smiled. "Nay, it is true. My father was the first of Finwë's sons. Finarfin, father of Galadriel, is the youngest. Although my uncle is now High King in Tirion, as you are descended from the senior line through my father, should you make the journey to Valinor you could legally challenge him for rule of the Ñoldor in Aman."

Tauriel blinked rapidly, a hand going to her brow as blood rushed to her head with the sudden increase of her heart rate. She had not once stopped to consider the implications of what being born of royal blood truly meant. She hadn't cared to think of it, in truth, because it mattered little to her. Her only focus had been returning home to Bard in Dale and securing his forgiveness.

"I…" she started to say, then stopped—she didn't really know what _to_ say. "Dear heavens, _Haru_ , I had no idea," she said at last.

"Considering there is nothing left of our kingdoms in Middle-earth for you to inherit," Maglor said sadly, "what is in Valinor is all there is for you, unless Galadriel has any family heirlooms she wishes to impart."

Tauriel thought then of the crown he had given her—originally intended for her grandmother, he had commissioned it in the first Year of the Sun nearly seven thousand years ago. The tiara was older than Thranduil, a thought she could not help but find amusing.

After a moment, she was finally able to gather her thoughts and said, "If I may be frank with you, Grandfather, I have no desire at all to rule over all the Ñoldor of Aman—that I am to be Queen of a small kingdom of Men is intimidating enough, and the coronation is still a year or more from taking place."

"Yet the people here already look up to you," he told her. "Your leaving was hardly a thought in their minds after that woman attacked you—they hoped only for your recovery."

She looked to him. "How did you even learn of it?"

"When I arrived at the city gate," Maglor replied. "I approached just before dawn this morning, and when I gave my reason for visiting—to see you—the guard led me immediately here, explaining on the way that some jealous woman had poisoned you and you were at risk of dying."

He paled on speaking the last words, so Tauriel offered comfort by way of giving his hand a squeeze. Maglor took a breath, then continued.

"When I arrived, the woodland king was in the foyer. He drew his weapon and refused to allow me to go further."

"Thranduil did _what_?" Tauriel asked with a scowl.

Her voice had carried beyond the door across the room, and they both heard a curse. Bard replied to it, saying, " _Did you really think he would not speak of it to her?_ "

"Stop eavesdropping on our conversation!" Tauriel yelled, then looked once more at Maglor. "I am sorry, _Haru_. He had no right to deny you admittance. Thranduil often forgets that his rule ends at the borders of his realm."

"Which he was reminded of by Lord Bain, after Bard threatened to end both our lives if he was not with you when you passed because he had to interfere in our… disagreement."

"Good for Bard. I will say to you now as I said before: you are both family to me, one by blood and the other by choice, and you are to treat each other with respect in my presence," Tauriel said firmly, knowing full well that Thranduil was still listening on the other side of the door.

Maglor nodded his head. "It will be as you wish, _Indyeldë_."


	74. Chapter 74

**Thank you to new follower major-fangirl-in-here17 for following and favoriting!**

 **IsabelleBrown, Laurel, Lordienne and Eryn - you ladies rock! Thanks for the reviews.**

 **Isabelle - Again, thanks for the compliments. I'm happy I could be of service!**

 **Laurel - Maglor actually has a few more appearances, one where he is only mentioned and two different scenes where he has a few lines of dialogue. And I hadn't precisely thought of what Tauriel's relationship to him really meant (as far as her royal connections) until I was actually writing that scene!**

 **Lordienne - Yep, gonna be nice and light (save for Dorna's departure) from here on out. Just five more chapters!**

 **Eryn - I think their relationship is sweet too. Certainly making her related to his family is the perfect (and obvious) fan fiction trope, thanks to her red hair. And there are so many directions I could have taken the relationship, but I decided that with all they'd each been through, this was one thing that wouldn't be entirely complicated.**

* * *

 **Tauriel's bodyguard is chosen and Dorna's fate is decided.**

* * *

Over the next few days, Tauriel received many visitors at the Healer's Hall.

Though she enjoyed each, none meant more to her than her family. Seeing their delight that she was well again and that their sibling was also, brought wide, relieved smiles to the faces of the children. They weren't even all that upset that because of the attack on her, they each now could not go anywhere without an escort—Elof had been assigned to watch over Bain, Sylvi was assigned to guard Sigrid, and Tormen was to look after Tilda. They astutely accepted their father's decree knowing, as she did, that his mind was set.

On learning that Bard desired a guardian for Tauriel, Thranduil took it upon himself to send for volunteers from among their kin. Six of the Mirkwood Guard with whom she had been particularly close and had served alongside for the majority of her career answered their king's summons to Dale, including Alaren. Knowing how averse she was to the idea, the Elvenking and Bard agreed to allow Tauriel to make the final decision.

The six were to be admitted to her room to speak to her alone one by one. The first three exited with a shake of their head at the questioning glances of the two leaders—it was down to Alaren, another _elleth_ named Ellairë, and an _ellon_ called Elros.

When Alaren entered Tauriel's room, she rushed over to embrace her as soon as she'd shut the door.

"How are you feeling? How's the little one?" she asked.

Tauriel chuckled as she shifted against the pillow behind her back. "I am much better now, thank you. _Ion nín_ is also quite well—and thankfully still at the moment."

She looked up at her longtime friend and sighed. "Alaren, I am most grateful you would volunteer for this duty, but I cannot offer it to you."

Alaren frowned. "Whyever not? Do you not trust that I will protect you?"

"Of course I would trust you to protect me—that is not why I cannot accept you," Tauriel replied. "You are Captain now, _mellon nín_. You have taken up my post in the Guard and your first duty is to your king. Not to your friend."

"But I miss you," Alaren said. "Though the forest is brighter and greener and _hîr mín_ less insufferable, things are just not the same without you and Legolas."

"You will adapt to life without me to command you. You've done a fine job of it so far." Tauriel smiled. "And worry not about the prince—he will come back. Mirkwood is his home."

"It is yours too."

She shook her head. "Once it was, Alaren, but not anymore. I will always love the forest of my birth and it lightens my heart that I can see the border from the gate of this city—I know that should I need to be among those trees, less than a day's journey separates us. But Dale is my home now. My place is here with Bard and our children."

For a long moment, Alaren just stared at her. At last she sighed in resignation. "All right, I concede," she said.

Tauriel reached for her hand. "Do not have any doubts—you will do quite well as Captain."

Ellairë came in shortly after Alaren departed. For a moment there was only silence between the two _ellith_ , then Tauriel drew a breath and said, "I wish to know why you volunteered to be my guardian."

The elf standing by her bed was one of the best the Guard had ever had. She was twice Tauriel's age and as deadly with a sword as Tauriel herself was with her knives. But she knew little had been seen of Ellairë since the Battle of the Five Armies; the older _elleth_ had first recovered from severe injuries in the healing wards in the palace, and thereafter had kept to her chambers.

All the while, she had been grieving the loss of her twin sister in the battle, and had spoken little or not at all to anyone. Frankly, Tauriel was at a loss to understand why Thranduil's healers had let her isolationist behavior go on so long.

Ellairë frowned. "For the same reason as the others—you are my friend. I despise that woman for what she tried to do and I would prevent another such occurrence if I am able."

"That is a good answer," Tauriel said with a nod. "Now tell me the true reason."

"Th-that is the reason. Wh-what other could there be?"

Now Tauriel raised a questioning eyebrow. "You tell me," she said. "Ellairë, whoever is my bodyguard must be someone I can trust implicitly. For that to occur there must be complete honesty between us. When the company came to Mirkwood in the spring; for that matter, when I was there myself just over four weeks past I did not see you. You did not come to visit me, and I did not seek your companionship out of respect for your grief, though I longed to offer you what comfort I could.

"So tell me, _mellon nín_ … Why are _you_ here?"

For a long moment, Ellairë only stared. Then her amber eyes filled with tears and her lower lip began to tremble, and suddenly she turned and sat on the edge of Tauriel's bed.

"I cannot stay there," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. "I love our home and always shall, but I just cannot stay. There are too many memories of Ellúrien in the halls. Even the trees remind me of her—the birds when they lift their voice in song, the breeze when it carries to me the scent of flowers…"

She sniffled as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I cannot bear it any longer, Tauriel. It is too painful to be reminded of my sister everywhere I go. I cannot breathe in Mirkwood anymore—I feel as though my grief is slowly suffocating me. So when the messenger came with the king's summons for volunteers to serve as your guardian, I saw it as my only chance to be free again."

Tauriel reached a hand over to lay it on her friend's arm. "I understand what that feels like, Ellairë. To be so consumed with grief that simply rising from your bed each day is a battle. But I have also run from my pain, and it solved nothing. The pain was still there."

Ellairë took a shaky breath, then turned her head to look at her. "How did you do it, _hiril nín_? How did you break free of the iron fist of grief?"

Once again hearing her own words spoken back to her, Tauriel knew her choice was made. She recalled the night she had said much the same thing to Bard, and so with a soft smile, she did for Ellairë what he had done for her.

"You must move on with your life. Find a purpose and hold fast to it. You may not yet see it, but your reason to live is out there, Ellairë, and you must take to your bed each night with the belief that each new dawn brings you ever closer to discovering just what that reason is."

* * *

After three days and nights at the Healer's Hall, Tauriel was cleared by Gildan and Laivindil to go home with her family, with strict instructions to rest for another week before becoming active again.

She found that Bard had made provisions for her to follow the healers' orders: he had hired not just one but three ladies to help out around the manor. Sisters Gunilla and Iona were two, the former being assigned to act as a handmaiden to Tauriel. Helping the _elleth_ dress and bathe were her primary duties, along with running any errands she might need done. Keeping Tauriel and Bard's rooms tidy was a duty Gunilla took upon herself, and she vowed she would help with the rest of the house if time allowed. Iona took up Dorna's vacated post as an assistant housemaid, and Halia was delighted to have both of them to work with, having taken a motherly shine to them after the death of their brother on the expedition.

The third new hire was Dagmar, Magnus' wife. She was brought in to look after the younger two of Halia's adopted children while the housekeeper and Iona, and Gunilla when available, saw to the cooking and cleaning. She would also help Tauriel care for the new baby when her child was born in the spring.

Bard and Tauriel discussed it and agreed that the five guardians should be in residence at the manor, thus enabling the soldiers to be immediately on-hand should they or one of the children desire to go out. Magnus (and Dagmar and their boys), Ellairë, Elof, Tormen, and Sylvi were given the rooms that the family had taken on moving into the manor, while they and the children moved at last to the larger, more stately chambers on the second floor. The master suite boasted of a large sitting room with a fireplace, a bedroom with another, smaller fireplace, and a private wet room. Tauriel was delighted to have a private space where she could just sit and read or talk with her husband, and Bard was pleased to have provided it.

During Tauriel's first week at home, he convened a council to determine Dorna's ultimate fate. Percy and Gudmund came from Esgaroth for the meeting, which also included Peder, Peri, and Thranduil. When all were arrived at the council chambers of the Great Hall in Dale, he called the meeting to order.

"First I will say this: as Tauriel and our son are alive and doing well, I have decided I shall be merciful and not sentence Dorna to execution. Because they live, so does she."

Bard cleared his throat. "The question is, what to do with her now?"

"Where is she now, my Lord?" asked Percy.

"At present, Dorna is incarcerated in the city jail, where she has been since the day she committed her crime," he replied. Bard then glanced sidelong at Thranduil. "Already she has been subjected to some punishment, as our friend and ally King Thranduil took it upon himself to give Dorna a much milder poisoning than she committed against Tauriel."

Thranduil barely concealed a smirk. "With the permission of your son and heir, Lord Bain, who acted in your stead while you were engaged…elsewhere."

He had been upset with what happened, but not entirely surprised that Thranduil had arranged for Dorna to be poisoned while he was enduring the _costa vilissë_. The darker side of Bard's personality was glad to learn she had suffered even a fraction of what Tauriel had, and wished he had been there to witness it. But as the leader of his people, he knew he could not outright condone their taking matters into their own hands, and so had verbally reprimanded everyone involved.

Bard frowned. "In any case, I think it unwise to grant Dorna her freedom," he went on. "Frankly, I would be most uncomfortable with her walking about the city, and I believe I can speak for Tauriel in saying she would also not care for the idea. More than that, I don't want that woman anywhere near a member of my family, especially my wife."

"If I may, sire, I gather from the people—whom I've overheard here and there—that should Dorna be allowed to go free, she would become the subject of…" Peder paused, as though searching for the right word. "…of one or more unfortunate incidents. The citizenry are understandably appalled by Dorna's crime against Lady Tauriel."

"And they say that should your chosen punishment not be to their satisfaction, they shall see to it that she is given her just desserts," Peri added.

Bard turned to Thranduil. "Do you see what you've started?" he asked.

The Elvenking raised a questioning eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean? Blame for your people's outrage cannot be laid at my feet, _mellon nín_."

"I'm talking about the vigilante justice," Bard countered. "Seeing you and Laivindil get away with it, and my son allowing it, has put the thought into their minds that they are allowed to do so as well."

"I wouldn't entirely blame that on Lord Thranduil, sire," spoke up Gudmund. "See, while I know folk were upset with the lady for leaving as she did, she made things right by coming back. By bringing a gifted healer with her when we all were in such dire need of one—not to mention since you and yours have forgiven her, they likely feel they should as well. But more than that, she is pregnant. Even were folk still angry for what she did to you, that anger would be set aside, for you know how our people feel about women who are with child."

Conceding the point with a nod of his head, Bard replied, "Aye. It is one thing that Men, even though far more prolific than Elves or Dwarves, have in common with both. A pregnant woman is precious to all, for she is the bearer of new life."

He signed then and rubbed a hand over his face. "We are in agreement then that Dorna will not be granted her freedom. But do I keep her locked up in that little cell for the rest of her days? Would not a measure of years be sufficient punishment? And regardless of the term of her incarceration, where is her sentence to be carried out? Though in truth I would be glad to be rid of her, I cannot in good conscience force her on anyone else."

"Then allow that burden to be taken from you, Bard," Thranduil said.

Bard frowned again. "How do you mean?"

"First, should Lord Percy or myself make an offer of holding the prisoner in our lands that you and your family would be free of her, your conscience would be clear."

Percy nodded in agreement. "He is right there, my Lord. Certainly exile away from you, the object of her desires, would be a just punishment."

Thranduil then smirked openly as he added, "Even more so would be exiling her to a realm wherein she would be surrounded by a people she despises."

Bard looked around the table and saw confused expressions turn to smiles as his advisors and the party from Esgaroth gleaned the elf's meaning. "What are you saying?" he said, needing to hear the words spoken aloud.

"Dorna clearly has a dislike for my kin, which has only grown because one has taken you from her and another has beaten her at her own game," the elf replied. "What would be more fitting than to send her to live among those she hates?"

Bard could imagine Dorna's outrage should he pass such a sentence, and smiled in spite of himself. "But what would she do in Mirkwood? If you are simply going to lock her in your dungeon, there would be no point to exiling her there, as she can just as easily remain incarcerated here."

"My chambermaids would be pleased to have a lighter workload," Thranduil deadpanned.

Gudmund snorted in an attempt to cover a laugh and Peri hid a smile behind her hand, while Peder and Percy wore bemused expressions. Bard himself tried not to laugh and failed. It was obvious Thranduil had already thought this through.

"Are you certain you wish to take her on?" he asked after a moment. "I've no doubt Dorna will endeavor to make trouble for you and your kin."

The Elvenking snorted. "As if a single mortal female would be much bother to us. Of course, as I am certain you are right about her, I will simply have her escorted throughout my halls by an armed guard at all times. She will not be treated cruelly—she'll have three meals a day and access to the bath houses twice weekly. Time in the out of doors will be granted once a week, and I'll even give her a room in the servants' quarters—provided she behaves herself. Otherwise she'll sleep in the dungeon."

"Bard, I advise taking King Thranduil up on his offer," said Peder. "Otherwise we'll have to keep her here or send her to Esgaroth with Lord Percy and Gudmund. And I can tell you for sure there's none here who will want the duty of looking after her."

"Certainly not, if the people are already threatening to do her ill should she go free," Bard mused. "Very well then, _mellon nín_ ," he said to Thranduil. "I gratefully turn custody of the prisoner over to you. In your halls you will keep her for a period of…say ten years, at which time her behavior and performance will be reviewed and her circumstances amended or not."

Thranduil nodded. "So be it."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _hîr mín_ \- our Lord


	75. Chapter 75

**Welcome new favoriter/follower Rev808! Thanks for clicking those buttons!**

 **Thanks also to my reviewers: Laurel, MiyonzMae, Sparky She-Demon, and Eryn. Glad you liked what Bard decided to do with a certain trouble-maker.**

* * *

 **Bye-bye, Dorna. It has _not_ been fun knowing you.**

* * *

Following the council, Bard went to the jail to inform Dorna of his decision while Thranduil prepared his people to at last depart for their home.

As he suspected, she was not in the least pleased to hear the news.

"You can't do that to me!" she cried when he told her she was being exiled to Mirkwood for no less than a decade.

"I can do that and more, should I like," Bard returned. "Be grateful my judgment is exile and not execution, as it would have been had Tauriel and our son died as a result of your cruelty."

"So you're going to be cruel to me in return, because I was desperate to make you see that I love you? Bard, you cannot be serious—you know I despise elves."

His eyes narrowed at her claim of loving him, but he chose not to address the remark—if attempted murder was her idea of an act of love, the woman was far more disturbed than any of them had conceived. "All the more reason for you to be made to live with them. If that is a cruel punishment, so be it."

With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the cell block, ignoring her pleas for him to change his mind. Outside the jail he waited for Thranduil and his guards to arrive. Several minutes later he noted them riding down the road…along with Tauriel, the children, their guardians, and Maglor.

"My darling, what are you doing here?" he asked when the party stopped before him and dismounted, though he suspected he already knew. "You are supposed to be resting."

"Do not be angry with my Lord Thranduil for informing me ere you could of the decision you made," she said as he kissed her cheek. "He meant only to comfort me with the news that Dorna would soon be of no concern to us. And I felt compelled to see her delivered to her fate."

Put that way, he could hardly argue her being there—she more than anyone had the right to see Dorna off.

Bard nodded to two of the soldiers who had been on guard duty, and they retreated back inside to retrieve the prisoner. As they waited, the number of people and horses gathered outside the jail drew curious onlookers, and it was soon spread among the people that Dorna was being sent into exile among the elves. Whispers said it served her right, being made to live with a people she hated. Exile was a just punishment, others said, while there were some who still believed she should have died for her crime.

In the two or three minutes it took the guards to manacle and bring Dorna out from her cell, a crowd had gathered. She started and blinked on being exposed to the late afternoon sunshine, as she'd not seen the sun for over a week, and then she gasped at the gathered crowd.

When the two guards brought her down the steps, Dorna looked to Bard, her gaze pleading. "My Lord, I beg you, do not go through with this. Do not let them take me from you, from our people!"

"You took yourself away from our people, Dorna, through your own foolish actions," Bard said coldly. "You've none but yourself to blame for your circumstances."

"I'll do whatever you want! I'll stay in this filthy jail, scrub floors in the manor—anything! I don't want to go live with the elves—please don't make me go!"

Murmurs that her whining was pathetic went through the crowd. Bard tilted his head again, telling the two guards it was time to pass her over to Thranduil's soldiers. As they made to walk past Tauriel, his bride bid them halt. Dorna glared at her with hate in her eyes, before her head was suddenly snapped backward by the elf's fist.

"That was for my son!" she declared as the crowd around them roared their approval. When the clamor had died down, she added, "Go to your punishment knowing that once you pass through the city gate neither Bard nor I shall ever think of you again."

Tauriel then stepped closer and whispered something in Dorna's ear that had the latter screeching and lunging toward her. Her escort jerked her away and Tauriel punched her again—much to the crowd's delight—before nodding her head toward her kin.

Dorna, her lip now split and bleeding, was walked to a horse and lifted into the saddle, her bound hands tied to the saddle horn. She was then surrounded by Thranduil's guards, with Alaren and the other elves who'd offered their services as Tauriel's guardian taking up the rear. Thranduil stepped up to Tauriel and said, "It brings me much joy to see you mended at last, _iell nín_. May each day hereafter bring you just as much happiness."

Tauriel smiled. "I have no doubt they will. I do hope you'll return for my wedding."

"I most certainly will, for I cannot wait to see you as a blushing bride."

This caused her to do just that—blush—and Bard grinned. He watched as she made the formal salute and bow, and then Thranduil turned to him.

"Many thanks for your hospitality, Lord Bard. I cannot wait to partake of it again, under much pleasanter circumstances."

Bard nodded. "Indeed they shall be, for I will be making your captain my bride once again." He reached a hand out to Tauriel and she took it with a smile. "I would say that I am sorry to take her from you, but I am not."

"Though I am sorry to see her taken, I am pleased she will not be far from me should I desire to visit with her," Thranduil replied.

The two nodded respectfully to each other, then the Elvenking walked over to his elk and mounted. He gave a curt order in Sindarin and the party began to move off, the crowd of former Lake-towners cheering and jeering at Dorna as she passed by them.

Bard placed his arm around Tauriel's shoulders and held her close as they watched them go, then he looked down at her to see her smiling up at him. "Let us go home, my darling," he said before placing a kiss on her lips.

Tauriel grinned against his mouth, and when they parted she said, "Home sounds wonderful to me."

* * *

The next ten days were spent finalizing details for Bard and Tauriel's wedding. The people scrambled about daily to ensure there would be enough food and drink for everyone, for the entire population of both Dale and Esgaroth were expected to attend. King Dáin and the remaining members of Thorin's Company had been invited from Erebor, and Thranduil and a number of elves would be coming from Mirkwood. Bard had long ago sent a letter of invitation to Erron in Dorwinion, but they had not received any word in response, so it was unsure if he would make an appearance. Still, there would be literally hundreds of people at this great feast, so every precaution was taken to ensure it would be a success.

Though the ceremony was intended to honor the Dalish culture, Tauriel had requested that one Elvish custom be incorporated—the exchange of rings. Bard had been only too happy to grant her wish, though still he asked why she wanted it.

Her answer was simple: "Because although my kin are considered wed by merit of bodily union, they do still hold ceremonies, at least many of the noble families do. And in truth I've always rather liked the symbolism and tradition of a wedding ceremony. The rings will show that you are mine and I am yours to _everyone_. Besides, too many customs have been overlooked on both sides—we should not forsake them all."

He could hardly argue that point. Their abbreviated courtship had not lasted more than a couple of weeks, and though she had given herself to him in marriage by the customs of her people, they were not, technically, wed by the customs of his. That Tauriel was willing to endure the pomp and circumstance of a wedding simply to satisfy the people they would one day rule as king and queen—for he had agreed with her that they were married already in their hearts—had made him even more proud to call her his.

And so it was that he agreed to the wearing of a wedding ring. His people did not wear tokens of marriage simply because weddings in Lake-town had almost always been a public affair, so everyone knew who belonged to whom—not to mention every union had been recorded in the public ledger.

That decision made, Tauriel had informed Bard that she wished to slightly alter the rings they would wear. Traditionally, elves would engage in a betrothal year, at the beginning of which silver rings would be exchanged. At the end of that year, if they decided they were indeed meant to be wed (and it was rare indeed, she explained, for an Elven couple to decide otherwise, for such a decision was never made lightly), they would hold a great feast. In front of all their family and friends, the couple would declare their intent again, and return the silver rings to each other in exchange for gold ones that would ever after be worn on the right index finger.

"I would have our rings be both silver and gold," she told him at last, "signifying the year that we will have known each other by the time of our wedding, and the future we will share as a truly united husband and wife."

Bard had smiled and kissed her. "It will be as you wish, my darling," he said.


	76. Chapter 76

**Thanks, as always, to my reviewers. Eryn, Laurel, and MiyonzMae - _of course_ Tauriel had to get a couple of licks in. I'm glad she got to clock the witch too! **

**If you're reading along in silence, I thank you too, and hope you're enjoying the story.**

* * *

 **Tauriel prepares for her (second) wedding.**

* * *

Tauriel awoke with a start on the day of her wedding.

 _It's here_ , she thought, and though Bard was already her husband, she felt a rush of excitement spread through her, along with a dose of nerves.

Her spirits were only slightly dampened when she sat up and glanced to her left to find that Bard was not there. She'd known he wouldn't be—apparently one of his peoples' customs was that the groom did not see the bride at all the day before the ceremony, and so after breakfast yesterday he had taken himself out of the manor to fulfill that tradition, saying he would spend the night in the Great Hall.

"Though it will be torture not to see you until tomorrow," he had said as he kissed her goodbye.

Falling asleep without him holding her had been difficult, and the baby had been unusually still, as though he knew his _ada_ was not with them.

She raised a hand to her large stomach and rubbed a circle. "Soon, _mellion_ , he will be with us again."

At that moment there was a soft knock on the bedchamber door. At her beckon, Gunilla stepped in and said that breakfast had been brought into the sitting room.

"I do not know that I can eat a thing," Tauriel told her as she flipped back the warm furs she had slept under and turned her feet over the side of the bed. Her handmaiden was quickly at her side to help her with her slippers, as she could no longer see her feet well enough to put on shoes.

"I imagine you must be nervous," Gunilla observed, "even if you are already married. Standing up in front of hundreds of folk would certainly make me skittish."

The young woman smiled then. "But if not for yourself, my Lady, you must eat something for the little one."

"You are right, of course, you are right. Come, let us get this day started that my son and I are reunited with his father that much sooner."

Gunilla laughed and helped her into a robe before leading her out of the bedroom. The breakfast Halia had prepared was thankfully light—just fruits and bread and milk. Tauriel did not think she could eat anything else.

After breakfast, the morning hours were spent taking a relaxing bath and having her hair done. After discovering she had it, Sigrid and Tilda had insisted she wear the crown Maglor had given her. Tauriel thought it was much too elaborate for a simple ceremony as they had planned, that it was something only royalty would wear to an important function.

"But you are royalty, remember?" Tilda had said. "You told us that your grandfather was a prince—that makes you a princess, does it not?"

"And your wedding, simple though it may be, _is_ an important function," Sigrid declared. "Besides, you wear this with that brilliant red hair of yours and that stunning white gown Halia's made for you, and not a single person will dare question your fitness to be our queen."

She had embraced them both fiercely, fighting back tears. She fought them again as she now sat at her dressing table allowing Sigrid to fuss over her, braiding and pinning her long red tresses so that it would look "just right" under Maglor's gift.

"You know, I did hair a few times for the ladies back in Lake-town," the girl mused as she worked. "Made me feel good when I earned enough coin for bread or milk—I liked helping out. I've often wondered if maybe I ought to open a shop or something."

"A shop where you do hair?" Tauriel asked.

"Why not? We've shops for jewelry and dresses, a butcher and a baker. A general mercantile…"

"Forgive me if I speak out of turn, my Lady," spoke up Gunilla, who'd just stepped into the room. "But a princess cannot run a shop."

In the mirror over the table, Tauriel watched Sigrid looked over at her, though not unkindly. "And again, I say why not? First, I'm not even a princess yet and won't be for another couple of years, I imagine, as Da wants to make sure the city can sustain itself first before accepting a royal title. Second, it's not as if I'm ever going to be queen, so why should I not have a trade to help support my family?"

"What would Téomas say?" Gunilla asked.

Sigrid blushed and returned her eyes to Tauriel's hair. The elf fought a grin as the girl behind her said, "Well, it's not as if Téomas and I are married, so he can't tell me what I can and cannot do. And even if we were, I would hope he would love me enough to support my doing something that makes me feel useful. Sure, I'm to be a princess someday, but even though I'm the eldest, I'm not the heir. Bain will become king after Da, and his son after him."

She sighed then and her hands stilled for a moment, before she drew a breath and said, "What other use is there for one such as me? Once we're royalty, it'll all be about Da and Bain. I'll be nobody."

Tauriel turned sharply in her seat and took Sigrid's hand in hers. "Now you listen to me, Sigrid. You are _not_ going to be nobody. You will be a Princess of Dale and that will mean _so_ much, not just to your father and brother but to your people. The women of your kingdom will look up to you as a standard on how to be a lady. They will tell their daughters to be more like you, a woman of poise and dignity. Until Bain is ready to take a wife, it will be your duty to see that any state event is planned perfectly and runs smoothly. Then it will be his lady's job and you will have to teach her what to do and how to do it."

A small smile began to appear on Sigrid's face. "Will not planning state affairs be your duty as queen?"

Tauriel snorted as she turned back around. "Absolutely not, and be glad of it you should—I'm terrible at planning parties. Battle strategies and training soldiers are my strengths. I am to be your father's ambassador to Mirkwood, his military advisor, commander of the occasional border patrol, and Captain of the Guard here in Dale should he ever ride off to war."

That had been a point of contention between them—whether or not she would also go to war with the soldiers of Dale should they ever be called—when they discussed what her duties as queen would be. Bard had been adamant that she should remain behind with their son…

* * *

 _"I will_ not _just sit and cower in the manor, looking after the children while my husband puts himself in harm's way! I am a soldier, Bard—was that not the reason you hired me after the battle? Do you really think I can just cast aside centuries of training and battle experience to be the doting wife and mother? You told me once that you believed a kingdom should be defended by its king—ought it not also be defended by its queen?"_

 _"Mirkwood's queen fought for her people, and look what became of her!"_

 _Shock seized her and she turned away from him._

 _"My darling, forgive me. I should not have spoken so callously of Thranduil's wife," Bard said immediately._

 _"No, you should not have," she told him._

 _It was several moments of taking deep, calming breaths later that she turned back. "Please,_ meleth nín _, do not think me uncaring of your feelings on this matter. In fact, I very much appreciate your concern for me, as I am sure you appreciate mine for you. But becoming your wife and bearing your child, becoming the queen of your people, does not change who I am. I am a warrior—it is as much a part of me as my love for you and our son. I can no more deny that than you can deny being a warrior is a part of you."_

 _With a sigh, he reached forward to take her hand. "No, I cannot. Nor should you," he said. "Again, I beg your pardon. It was thoughtless of me to have even suggested you should give up the very thing that I did indeed employ you for."_

 _Bard then led her over to the sofa and drew her down beside him. "If I may ask, my darling, have you given any thought as to what would happen should we both go to war? My focus would be on ensuring your safety and not the battle itself, and I am certain the reverse is also true. This would put us both at great risk. And if, Valar forbid, we both fell in battle, our son would then be an orphan. You have experienced that pain—would you truly wish him to endure it?"_

 _She shook her head. "I have considered it, and the thought of leaving him all alone, as I was, terrifies me. But then what can we do that both our warrior spirits are satisfied, yet not take the risk of leaving our son without both his parents?"_

 _Gathering her to him, Bard turned her so that her back was to his chest, then wrapped his arms around her to rest his hands atop her belly. "Clearly we must find some measure of compromise."_

 _Silence fell between them as they sat there, until Tauriel said, "What of this: After our son is born, I will continue to train our soldiers as I have done in the past. Occasionally—when he is weaned from my breast—I will go out with riders to defend our borders, as you would do also."_

 _"That sounds agreeable. But what of war? What if one of our allies should call for Dale's aid to assist them in defeating a vast army?" Bard asked._

 _She hesitated. Tauriel knew in her heart she would want more than anything to ride to war beside him, but Bard had a point: They could not take the risk that they might both fall. So it was with a resigned sigh that she said, "You will lead our army, and I will remain behind as Captain of the Guard here in Dale."_

 _"You're not going to just sit and cower in the manor?"_

 _Because she knew he was only jesting, the elbow she threw back into him was a light blow. "Certainly not. I will be with our men on the battlements, as ready as they to rain arrow after arrow down upon any enemy that should threaten us in your absence."_

 _He kissed her temple and for a moment tightened his embrace. "That, too, sounds agreeable."_

* * *

"If you ask me," Sigrid said, snapping Tauriel from her reverie, "I hope Da will never have to go off to war."

The elf met the young woman's eyes in the mirror. "We both hope that."

Soon conversation turned to lighter matters, such as whether or not she and Bard had chosen a name for the baby. Tauriel said they had discussed several names, and would reveal the one they settled on when the baby was born.

Tilda had slipped into the room as she said this, and planted her hands on her hips as she declared, "That's not fair! You said because you're an elf, the baby won't come until a year from the day he was conceived, and that's a whole six more months away!"

"Tilda, my dear one, you have been patient this long," Tauriel admonished her lightly. "Six more moons will not harm you."

The little girl had pursed her lips and frowned, then huffed and marched over to the shelf where the box with the moonstone tiara lay and brought it over, as Sigrid had finished with her hair. Tauriel turned her head left and right to examine it—the elder girl had indeed done a fine job. Curly wisps framed her face, but the rest had been braided and gathered into a beautiful twist at the back of her head.

"It looks so lovely, Sigrid. Thank you," Tauriel said.

"Indeed, my Lady," agreed Gunilla as she carried over the wedding dress. "Mayhap you should open that hair shop after all, Miss Sigrid."

There was a knock at the door then. Tauriel asked who it was and when Ellairë announced herself, she bid her bodyguard to enter. The blonde-haired elf came across the room with something in her hand.

"Master Devorin just delivered this for you. He said to tell you that this one is for Lord Bard, and that yours is next to be delivered to Bard himself."

Holding out her hand, Tauriel waited anxiously, knowing that this was the wedding ring she would give to Bard in just another hour or so. Ellairë opened the small box she held and placed it in her palm, and Bard's girls gasped in unison with her.

"That's a lovely ring!" Sigrid exclaimed softly.

Indeed it was—Devorin had outdone himself. Once commissioned, Tauriel and Bard had left the design up to him, much to the jeweler's delight. Their only requests were that his creation include both silver and gold, and that the two rings should match. What he had accomplished was simple, but incredible: a wide band of gold with a silver band channel-set around its middle, and on the silver was etched intricate swirls. When she pulled the ring from the box, the silver moved.

"The silver turns!" she said, and proved it to the girls by lightly spinning it with the pad of her thumb.

"Oh, that's a neat trick," Tilda said.

"Indeed. Master Devorin has once more done fine work," Tauriel agreed with tears in her eyes.

"Come now!" Sigrid said brightly. "No time for silly tears. We must get you dressed!"

Laughing, Tauriel agreed. Blinking the tears away as she returned the ring to the box, she then set it on the dressing table and allowed Sigrid, Tilda, and Gunilla to help her out of her dressing gown and into her wedding gown. When it was on and buttoned, she sat again so that the crown could be placed on her head.

"Oh, Tauriel!" Tilda gasped when it was done. "You truly look like a princess!"

"No, _hiril nín_ ," said Ellairë. "She looks like a queen."

For a moment, all Tauriel could do was stare at her reflection. She looked…different. The person staring back at her didn't feel like the person she knew herself as, and she realized that she truly was changing—nay, _growing_. Though she had spent the previous 635 years in Mirkwood, and had lived and worked and loved in this city of Men for much of the last year, this ceremony suddenly seemed to her as though she was soon to walk through a door from the past into the future.

It was a momentous realization, and her breast swelled with emotion as she took a deep breath of acceptance…and smiled in wholehearted welcome.

Blinking, she then turned to her daughters-by-marriage and said, "Now it is your turn. We must get you dressed and quickly so, for your father and all of our people are waiting for us."

"Silly Tauriel," Tilda said with a laugh. "They're not waiting for us, they're waiting for you."

Half an hour later, the two girls were dressed in matching green gowns trimmed with gold, also made by Halia's skilled hands. As they made their way to the foyer at last, where she knew Maglor would be waiting, Tauriel suddenly became nervous again, wondering what her grandfather would think of her appearance.

She heard him gasp softly as they filed into the foyer and he first took sight of her. Maglor stepped past the girls and Gunilla and reached to take her hands in his. " _Indyeldë_ , you look radiant. For a moment when first I looked upon you, I thought you were my _ammë_. Such a blessing it is to see her in you, for it as if she is here with us."

Tears sprang to Tauriel's eyes, for she knew he missed his mother dearly. "I am grateful even more at this moment that I have her look, for as long as it will bring you pleasure to see her in me."

"I will always find pleasure in seeing her in your countenance," he said with a smile.

Maglor then turned and put his arm out, tucking her hand into his elbow. "Come now, we must get you to the Great Hall before your beloved sends the city guard in search of you."

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _mellion_ \- beloved son


	77. Chapter 77

**To my reviewers - MiyonzMae, Sparky She-Demon, Laurel, and IsabelleBrown - so glad you all enjoyed the last chapter. I've always imagined the relationship between Tauriel and Bard's daughters to be a close one as they've had no real female influence in their lives since their mother died, and I'm happy it came through in the writing.**

 **And to new favoriter lizzielucky - thanks for clicking that button!**

* * *

 **They're already wed in the eyes of the Elves. Now Bard and Tauriel are about to be wed in the eyes of Men...**

* * *

Bard tugged at his collar and looked toward the door.

Any moment now, Tauriel would be stepping into the Great Hall. He had not seen her since yesterday morning, and staying away from her all day and night as tradition demanded had been harder than he'd imagined it would. But in a very short time she would be here, and he would at last see her in the white dress that Halia had made—he could well imagine that Tauriel would look incredible wearing it.

Again he tugged at the collar of the tunic he wore. Dark green it was, trimmed with black silk that bore gold embroidery, with gold buttons down the front. The clothier had paired the shirt with black trousers bearing a strip of matching gold embroidery up the outside of the legs. The ensemble was the finest clothing he'd ever owned, let alone worn, and Bain had declared that he looked "quite like a king."

"Da, you cannot possibly be nervous," his son said from beside him. "'Tis not as if you've never been married before—Sig, Til, and I are proof of that."

"Aye, but when I married your mother our ceremony was small, with only our parents, a few family, and some friends standing for us. Though I was nervous, I did not feel quite so…on edge," Bard replied. "I suppose it is because there are a few hundred more witnesses this time 'round."

Indeed, it seemed as though the whole of Dale and Esgaroth had turned up for the occasion of his wedding. There were at least twenty elves in attendance, including Thranduil, Alaren, and all the others who had offered to serve as Tauriel's guardian. All the surviving dwarves from Thorin's Company were here, as was Dáin.

Of great delight to Bard were the other guest dignitaries, whose arrivals had kept him plenty busy enough to not dwell on his nerves about the ceremony. First to surprise him was a party of dwarves from Dwarrowvale that had arrived the day before, led by the princess that had drawn Tilda out from her depression. Rejna had come ostensibly to talk of trade and alliance with both Dale and Erebor, and had been honored by his invitation to attend the wedding.

In a very short time, she had proven herself a remarkable lass. Not only was she the comeliest dwarf he had ever seen—considering all until now had been male—but she was as bright as the sun and as sharp as a tack. The two of them had engaged in a lengthy, lively discussion concerning relations between Dale and Dwarrowvale, the opportunity having been lost to them earlier in the year. Knowing she was the dwarf kingdom's crown princess, Bard was not long in determining she would make a very fine queen one day.

Much to his surprise and delight, not only had she and her soldiers escorted a number of Erebor's former residents to the mountain but also some of his own kin, as had been sent along at the behest of the Steward of Gondor. It was something of a shock to learn that Turgon had remembered his lamenting of the barrenness of the soil in and around Dale, the region having been so devastated by the dragon during his residence in Erebor. The thirty folk who'd come were all experienced farmers—which his own people most certainly were not—and were well versed in the ways in which barren earth could be cultivated and regenerated, and made to yield edible foodstuffs. They were to stay through the winter to plan gardens and fields and orchards, as well as irrigation and treatment for the soil so that it would serve the people of Dale and the dwarves in Erebor for years to come.

Considering the poor crop his people had managed, Bard knew he would be forever grateful for his fellow lord's thoughtfulness.

Also in attendance were two whose presence he knew would delight Tauriel. The Lady Arwen and Haldir, along with Tirinwë and Ceridwen, had arrived that morning. Thankfully they had been escorted directly to the Great Hall, where their presence would be a great surprise to his bride. On speaking with Tauriel's distant cousin, Bard learned that Maglor had sent a letter to Galadriel following Tauriel's recovery, and in it had mentioned the wedding. Arwen had apparently declared she wished to attend, that she might see for herself how her friend was faring; Haldir and Laivindil's parents (the healer was excited at seeing them again so soon) had been sent along as protection.

He started at three loud knocks on the hall doors—the signal that Tauriel and the girls had arrived. Bard's nerves began to dance again as the assembled folk turned toward the entrance, the double doors now being opened by two of the city guard. First to step through was a beaming Tilda, her excitement clear and barely contained. Behind her was Sigrid, who truly looked like her mother in the green and gold gown she wore.

Then, a hand in the crook of her grandfather's elbow, came Tauriel. There were immediate gasps and murmurs as to how beautiful she looked in the white gown, how lovely the tiara was that sat upon her head. Bard felt the breath leave his lungs as his heart increased its pace. Though he was supposed to wait for her at the grand fireplace with Bain and Percy, who was to act as officiant, he found his feet carrying him down the aisle toward her.

The crowd of people murmured at his action, many of them chuckling.

"Manwë be praised, my darling," Bard said, before taking her free hand in his and bowing at the waist as he brought it to his lips. When he straightened he added, "You look absolutely stunning."

"You cut your hair."

Bard reached a hand to his shortened locks, which now only reached his collar and curled around his ears. "I thought perhaps it was time for a trim, as I am long past due. You don't like it?"

Tauriel took her hand from his and lifted it to his cheek with a smile. "Quite the contrary—you look now as our son appeared to me."

Bard smiled. "I am pleased to remind you then. Besides, it will all grow back soon enough."

He looked then to Maglor and dropped his head respectfully. "My Lord Prince, with your consent…"

The _ellon_ raised an eyebrow. He was supposed to have given Tauriel's hand to Bard at the end of the aisle, but Bard had figured his excited rush toward her made waiting unnecessary.

Or so he thought. Maglor's hesitation had him wondering if he'd presumed too much—until the ancient elf smiled, chuckling as he took Tauriel's hand from his arm and placed it in Bard's. "With greatest blessings," he said, before kissing her cheek and stepping back so Bard could take his place beside her.

Bard nodded again, and when he assumed the other male's place beside his bride, placed her hand in the bend of his arm, smiling down at her as he led her toward where his son, his daughters, and Percy awaited them.

"Lads and ladies, honored guests…We are gathered together in this fine hall to witness as Bard, son of Galen, and Tauriel, daughter of Lúnairien, are united in marriage according to the customs of the people of Dale," Percy began. "Let any who can give just reason why these two souls should not be joined speak now, or henceforth remain silent."

Bard only just resisted the urge to turn around and silence any possible naysayers with a stern glare. He and Tauriel had already endured more than enough trials to reach this point—and with Dorna gone from the city, there ought to be none left who thought them unsuited to one another.

After half a minute's wait, Percy grinned, then cleared his throat. "A year it has been since Bard and Tauriel met. First they were acquaintances, and then they were friends. In time, they came to love one another, healing at last two hearts that were broken by loss of another they each loved. They have endured a number of trials as any couple is like to do, tests of their faith and fidelity, but here they stand before us ready to unite their houses in matrimony. And through means I admit I do not fully understand, they have spoken with the spirits of Lady Aja of Esgaroth and Prince Kíli of Erebor, and their union has received the blessing of those two departed souls."

There were soft gasps from Sigrid and Tilda at the mention of their mother; Bard felt Bain's eyes on him and looked to his son with a smile. The crowd behind them murmured at this revelation, which after a long discussion between them concerning their experiences in the ether, Bard and Tauriel had decided they would honor the blessings they had received by including a mention of Kíli and Aja in the opening words of their wedding ceremony. When they told Percy of it, he had smiled warmly and declared it a compassionate gesture.

Percy cleared his throat again, drawing Bard's attention back to him. "Do you Bard vow that you will honor Tauriel by giving your strength for her protection, your labor to provide a home for her and what children she may bear for you, and that you will forsake all others and cleave only to her for all the days that you will live?"

Bard looked down into Tauriel's smiling face. "I so vow," he said, his voice nearly catching in a throat tightened with emotion.

"And do you Tauriel vow to honor Bard by giving your strength in the bearing of his children, your labor to maintain the home he provides for you, and that you will forsake all others and cleave only to him for all the days that you will live?"

Tauriel looked up at him again, still beaming her gorgeous smile. "I so vow."

"At this time, Bard and Tauriel desire to pay homage to the customs of the lady's Elven kin."

They turned to each other then, and Bard could tell by the way her expression lit up that Tauriel had caught sight of her surprise visitors as Sigrid and Bain stepped up beside them holding the rings.

Bard took Tauriel's ring from his son's hand and lifted her right. "I give to thee this ring as a symbol of my unending love and devotion," he said as he slipped it onto the first finger.

Tauriel blushed brilliantly before she turned and took his ring from Sigrid's outstretched hand. "I give to thee this ring as a symbol of my unending love and devotion," she said, sliding the larger ring onto the first finger of his right hand.

"What the Valar have blessed let no one tear asunder. And by the authority given unto me by Lord Bard himself, I now declare these two are wed!" Percy cried out.

The crowd of onlookers cheered and applauded as Bard swept Tauriel into his arms and kissed her deeply. She laughed as he released her, saying, "Now we are good and truly married, _meleth nín_. You'll not be getting rid of me now."

"Which is a very good thing, my darling, as I've absolutely no desire to ever do so," Bard replied. He then laced his fingers with hers and brought the back of her hand to his lips, before turning with her to join their guests in the celebration of their union.


	78. Chapter 78

**Thank yous go out to Sparky She-Demon, Eryn, and Laurel for your reviews of chapter 77. I'm glad you were all pleased with the wedding!**

 **I have a new favoriter, but I cannot seem to find the name in my email - though I thank you just the same to that person for clicking the button!**

 **Eryn - Sadly Rejna is only mentioned that one time, but if I can get my muse to cooperate with me I'll be writing up Bard's meeting with her for the Glimpses compilation. Plus she's going to play a major role in my next epic story.**

* * *

 **Guess who's coming to dinner...**

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"Fresh air does wonders for the soul."

"But absolutely nothing for the body," Tauriel replied dourly.

Alaren glanced at her as they walked through the garden of the Elven fortress. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Tauriel waved off her concern with one hand and placed the other at the small of her back. "I am fine. I just tire of being pregnant, is all."

There were but two weeks to go until the birth of her son. Tauriel could not wait to hold him in her arms, for as he'd grown inside her, her stomach had grown increasingly larger. She had put on more weight than she imagined she needed to nurture him, and at times she wondered if there were not two babes inside her after all. Her back ached constantly, her hands were often swollen—she couldn't even see her feet!—and her gowns draped over her like a tent.

She felt terrible about her appearance more often than she cared to admit, though Bard assured her she had never looked more radiant.

"I regret that I cannot sympathize with you, my Lady," her friend replied. "I have not yet had your luck in securing a mate."

"You will someday, I am sure of it. For it would be a crime for one so noble as you to not know love as I do, _mellon nín_."

Alaren smiled down at her. "Thank you for the hope you have, as mine continues to wane."

They re-entered the palace, Ellairë close on their heels even though her duty as Tauriel's bodyguard was rendered unnecessary in these lands—there was no elf who would dare incite the king's wrath by harming a guest, let alone one who was of their own kin. The "mortal chambermaid", as Dorna was referred to, had been confined to the dungeon for the entirety of Bard and Tauriel's visit. This suited them both just fine even if Thranduil had said she was behaving herself—"for the most part"—as neither had a desire ever to see her.

The three _ellith_ made their way to the staging area where the party from Dale was preparing to depart. Horses were saddled and awaiting their riders, and Halia's covered wagon awaited Tauriel, for it had been declared by Laivindil that she ought not attempt to ride a horse so far as Mirkwood.

"Though I know you desire to partake in the spring celebrations of your kin, my Lady, I do wish you'd remain home. The babe will come very soon, so you ought not be traveling so far," the healer had said.

Winter had clamped the north lands in her grip longer than the year before, and so the annual Awakening feast had been held later than usual; frankly, she'd not wanted to pass up an opportunity to visit the woods of her birth, which she'd not had chance to do through the cold months. "My Lord Thranduil has invited us, and there are two weeks until I am due," Tauriel had argued. "I will be fine."

Gunilla and Tilda, as well as Magnus' wife and children, had accompanied them, much to the delight of the two boys. Arvid and Egil were fascinated by elves and enjoyed any opportunity given to them to spend time around them. Dagmar and her children were already seated in the wagon while Tilda and Gunilla were being helped onto their horses as Tauriel approached.

"Ah, there you are, my darling. We've been waiting for you," Bard said, taking her hand and guiding her to where the wagon waited.

"I needed to see the garden one more time," she said. "With the _gwinig_ due to arrive in a fortnight, I do not know when I might next have chance to see it."

"I daresay you'll not be inclined to leave Dale until the Feast of Starlight," observed Thranduil. "I do hope you'll come for the celebration, though I will understand if you should not."

Bard looked to him. "We'll have to see where things stand when the time comes," he said. "Though at this moment, I do not see any reason we should not accept your invitation. Things are going well in Dale and I am quite glad of it."

Indeed they were. The farmers from Gondor had developed an ingenious plan for restoring life and vitality to the soil of the ruined valley between Dale and Erebor, and the dwarves had brokered a deal for a portion of the crop in exchange for labor in digging the irrigation ditches and tilling the ground. The work had begun at the start of April and would continue through the planting season. Though it might be another year or more before a full crop was produced given the condition of the soil, consistent care, hard work, and a good dose of patience would eventually see their efforts rewarded.

"As am I," the _ellon_ said with a nod.

Tauriel grimaced at a twinge in her back as Bard helped her into the seat of the wagon next to Dagmar. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? I am fine," she said. "My back hurts a little, but that is clearly because there is a planet hanging from my front."

She watched with a sour expression as Bard and Thranduil exchanged bemused glances. "Let us get going, my love," the _elleth_ said pointedly, "that we are in Dale again before nightfall. Halia has planned a special dinner for your birthday."

"And I would not care to incite her wrath by being late for it," Bard said with a grin.

Final farewells were then said and the group began to make their way home. Tauriel did her best to conceal her discomfort from her companion over the next couple of hours as they trekked through the woods toward Dale, but the pain in her back only grew worse as they traveled, and she was now feeling it across her stomach as well.

"At risk of angering you, my Lady, are you well?" Dagmar inquired softly.

Tauriel had to grin—the younger woman had not been remiss to her annoyance at Bard's similar query. "To be truthful, not entirely," she confessed in as soft a voice as the wagon's driver. "I'm in a good deal of pain at the moment, but I do not want to alarm my husband."

Dagmar transferred the reins to her right hand and held the left out. "May I?"

At her nod, the hand was placed upon her belly. Dagmar was silent for a moment, concentration in her expression, then she looked to Tauriel and said in a tone of hushed excitement, "You are in labor, my Lady!"

Tauriel's hands rose to her stomach as another pain seized her. She breathed through it, focusing on when it would be over, before she said, "That cannot be. I am not due for two weeks—my kin carry a whole year."

"Your child is also half mortal," Dagmar pointed out. "I think you could have borne him any time after you reached nine months, which is when mortal women deliver. That you have kept him this long in all honesty surprises me."

She lifted her hand to Tauriel's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "We should inform Lord Bard that the babe is coming."

"Nay, not yet. We'll be in Dale come mid-afternoon. Surely he will not come before then."

At that moment, the wagon was jolted as one of the wheels dropped into a rut in the path. A loud snap was heard amidst the gasps of the ladies and the squeals of the two boys and the wagon lurched to a stop.

Tauriel cried out again as wetness rushed down her legs. "Oh no!"

Bard, Tilda and Gunilla, and all the guards that had come had turned at the noise. Bard cantered Huron to Tauriel's side of the wagon and she looked at him with a mixture of fear and excitement in her eyes.

"My darling, are you all right?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"Our son," she managed through another intense pain she could no longer deny was labor. "Our son is coming—my waters have broken!"

Panic immediately appeared in his expression, though only for a moment. "We must get you back to the palace. Thranduil's healers can aid you."

She shook her head. "Nay, it is too late."

"The front right wheel is broken, my Lord," Magnus declared from the other side of the wagon. "We'll not be moving this thing anytime soon."

"Laivindil was right, we should not have come," Bard said then as he reached over and took her hand.

Tauriel shook her head. "I am not due for a fortnight. This should not be happening!"

Dagmar stood up. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, listen up! A baby is coming and there's no stopping it. Magnus, Tormen—head back to Lord Thranduil's and get a wheel for this wagon. Ellairë, do us a favor and find a place to start a fire—I need clean, boiling water. Arvid, Egil, be good lads and go with Ellairë to find some wood for the fire. Gunilla, Tilda, come help me get Lady Tauriel into the back of the wagon so I can have a look at her. The rest of you stand guard. I do not want some blasted spider or orc interrupting the birth of the prince."

For a split second, no one moved. Then Bard nodded once and Magnus and Tormen took off back the way they had come at a gallop. Arvid and Egil clambered out of the back of the wagon and joined Ellairë in looking for firewood along the edge of the path. Gunilla and Tilda dropped from their horses as the remaining guards formed a perimeter.

"What should I do?" Bard asked.

Tauriel looked to Dagmar, who looked down at him and said, "You will stand guard, my Lord. Birthing is women's work—it has been for ages past, it will be for ages to come.

"Come now, my Lady," she said, holding her hand out to Tauriel again. "Let's get you into the back where you'll be more comfortable."

Bard looked for a moment as though he would argue, but at Tauriel's weak smile he relented, dismounting from Huron and leading the stallion over to where the other horses were standing. Tilda and Gunilla had by this time climbed into the back of the wagon and reached through the opening to help her over the seatback. Some pillows and a blanket had been put back there for the boys and the young mother told Tauriel to lie down, placing two pillows under her head.

She then smiled apologetically. "My Lady, I'll need you to lift your bottom if you can so we can remove your underthings."

Tauriel nodded mutely as she placed her feet flat and lifted her bum. Dagmar pushed her skirts back and Gunilla, who'd helped her dress many a time by now, pulled her underclothes off and set the wet garments aside. "Set yourself down now, and let's have a look at you," Dagmar instructed.

She then reached a hand between Tauriel's legs, just as another contraction seized her. The _elleth_ ground her teeth to keep from crying out at the pain, which edged out the discomfort of Dagmar's examination.

"Oh Yavanna, please let me reach the plateau quickly," she grumbled.

"The plateau?" Tilda queried from beside her.

"Elves have the ability to disconnect their minds, if you will, when they have reached their tolerance for pain," Tauriel explained. "That way we don't feel it. The term in Sindarin is difficult to pronounce, so in the common language we call it the plateau. Such is useful in battle and birthing—and I desire very much to get there quickly."

"Wishing to be free of pain in battle I can understand, but I had no idea birthing could be so trying. Is a battle wound not worse than birthing?" the girl asked.

"At this moment, I would say not in the least. No pain I have experienced compares to this, and I've your father to thank for it."

 _I am sorry you are hurting, Tauriel_ , Bard said in her mind. _Is there anything I can to do to make this easier for you?_

"You can birth this baby for me!" she yelled in reply, eliciting laughs from their small company.

"My Lady, how long have you been in pain?" Dagmar asked.

"Not long." The mother of two gave her a knowing look. "All right—my back began hurting last night and I did not sleep well, but though it has not stopped I thought it only one of my usual backaches. The stomach pains began shortly after we left the fortress."

"Why do you ask? Is something wrong?" Tilda asked, clearly troubled.

Dagmar smiled. "I do not think anything is wrong. I am simply surprised by how quickly things are progressing." She looked to Tauriel. "It is likely you've been in labor for several hours, my Lady, and just did not realize—that happens often with first-time mothers. As it is, even had the wagon's wheel not broken, I do not think we would have made it to Dale."

"Goodness, he will be here that soon?" Tauriel asked with surprise.

"I've no doubt you'll be pushing within the hour, my Lady."

It was, in fact, about an hour later—as Dagmar examined her again and declared the baby had started his descent into the birth canal—that Tauriel actually felt the desire to push. When she mentioned it, Dagmar directed Gunilla to get behind her mistress so that she would be semi-upright; Tilda remained at her side, holding her hand and mopping her brow with a bit of cloth torn from the blanket. "Oh, I'm so excited to meet my baby brother soon! Sigrid will be so disappointed she stayed in Dale with her silly wedding plans."

Sigrid had been kept quite busy the last few weeks with planning hers and Téomas' wedding, the young Rohirrim man having proposed to her at the Yuletide celebration, and so had elected to decline Thranduil's invitation to the Awakening feast.

"They won't be so silly…when it is your turn to be doing the planning, _iell nín_ ," Tauriel managed.

"All right now, Lady Tauriel, you need to push!" Dagmar said.

Tauriel bore down and commanded her muscles to do as nature designed, after a time dropping back against her handmaiden with a gasp. On her second push, she could not help the scream that escaped her. Behind her she heard someone climb into the wagon's seat and knew it was Bard.

"Da, get down from there this instant!" Tilda declared.

"Tauriel screamed—is she all right?" he asked, his tone worried.

She glanced over her shoulder. "You try pushing a watermelon out of an opening the size of a lemon!"

Bard shook his head, and the way he bit his lip she knew he was trying not to laugh. Tauriel scowled and looked away.

"Go now, my Lord," Dagmar ordered him. "I told you, this is women's work. Get thee gone."

"Very well. I'll be right here beside the wagon, my darling," Bard said with a sigh, and climbed back down at last.

Another hour and a half passed and Tauriel labored through it, pushing every few minutes. She screamed occasionally, when the pain was too much, and prayed over and over again that she would reach the point where she could escape it.

Suddenly the thunder of many hooves could be heard. Ellairë called out that Magnus and Tormen had returned with a number of elves, including the king.

Tauriel was pushing again when she heard his voice. "Your men said Tauriel was in labor. I have brought one of my healers with me—how does she fare?"

Bard was heard to groan, and Tauriel imagined him gesturing to the wagon. "They will not let me see her, and frankly from the sound of things I cannot tell. She has screamed more than once from the pain, and it grieves me that I can do nothing for her."

"Such is the way of things, _mellon nín_ ," Thranduil replied, his tone sympathetic. "Birthing of children is the arena of females, and has been for all the ages."

"You're doing beautifully, my Lady," Dagmar said. "I think I can spare a moment to speak with the men, if you like."

"Yes, I think that would be all right. The pain is not so much anymore," Tauriel said, having realized with the last push it had begun to ebb. "Perhaps I shall reach the plateau before _ion nín_ arrives after all."

She had begun to worry she would not, especially when Dagmar had said the baby was soon to crown. Even an inexperienced _elleth_ like her knew that crowning meant an infant was but moments from being brought forth.

Turning round on her knees, Dagmar poked her head through the flap on the back of the wagon's cover. Tauriel listened as she spoke in clipped sentences, telling Bard and Thranduil that the babe was soon to come as his mother had likely been in labor far longer than she knew. After a moment, she looked over her shoulder and repeated the Elvenking's offer to have his healer tend her, to which Tauriel expressed her thanks but declined, not wishing to deprive Dagmar of the honor as she'd been coaching her splendidly so far. She had trained as a midwife, the mother of two had explained at the start, though she'd yet to actually assist in a delivery on her own.

"Then this experience is a first for both of us," Tauriel had said with a smile.

Within a minute, she felt another contraction take hold, could sense the muscles in her back and stomach seizing—but this time, she felt no pain at all. A satisfied smile lifted the corners of her mouth and she sighed as she held her breath and pushed again under Dagmar's instruction.

"And we've got a head!" Dagmar declared. "His da's hair, it looks like, and his mam's ears."

A cheer arose from outside the wagon, the loudest voice being Bard's. Tauriel sensed him leaning against the side of the covering and reached out to him with her mind.

 _Soon_ , meleth nín— _I can feel it. In just moments we will see our boy._

 _I can hardly wait to look upon him_ , Bard replied.

"My Lady, give me your hands," Dagmar said suddenly.

Tauriel looked at her, fear spiking in her chest. "Why? Is the babe not well?"

The midwife smiled. "'Tis nothing of the sort—I merely thought you might wish to assist him."

Never had she heard of a mother helping birth her child in such a manner, but Tauriel was certainly not going to say no. Reaching between her legs, she felt the baby's head and cried out as unadulterated joy burst through her, tears slipping from her eyes. "He's really coming!"

"Give another push, Tauriel, and we'll get those shoulders out. Then you'll just have to pull him the rest of the way," Dagmar said.

Tauriel nodded and pushed with all her strength. Dagmar repositioned her hands under the baby's shoulders and she gave a little tug, at last pulling him free of her.

" _Suilad, ion nín_ ," she whispered softly as she brought him to her chest.

"I don't hear anything," she heard Bard say. "What's happening? Tauriel, are you all right?"

"I am quite well now. He is here," she replied as she cradled the baby to her.

Bard gave a loud whoop. "My son! I have a son!" he shouted, followed by loud cheering and applause from the guards and elves.

"Congratulations to the both of you," Thranduil said.

"Congratulations, my Lady," Gunilla told her, giving her shoulders a light squeeze.

"Oh happy day!" squealed Tilda with a clap of her hands.

Tilda then gave her another piece of the blanket to clean the baby with, and held another ready to wrap him. The newborn _peredhil_ child squirmed in his mother's grasp as she wiped at his face, and then stilled as he suddenly opened his eyes and looked directly into hers.

Tauriel knew in that moment that she could never love another being the way she loved her son.

Her midwife tied off the umbilical cord with a bit of string and cut it with a small knife, separating the boy from his mother at last. "The afterbirth has passed, my Lady. Shall I allow Lord Bard to come into the wagon now?" Dagmar asked.

She and Tilda had just finished wrapping the baby. Tauriel looked around her and said, "Let us make me presentable and then open the cover of the wagon instead."

Dagmar grinned and nodded. Gunilla then moved from behind Tauriel and enlisted Tilda's help with propping her up with pillows; she was then covered from the waist down with the rest of the blanket. The three then untied the sides of the heavy canvas, rolling it up and securing it near the top of the frame.

Bard climbed immediately into the seat of the wagon, a look of wonder on his face and tears slipping from his eyes as he bent and kissed her brow, then reached a hand to gently stroke the baby's cheek. "Welcome, my son," he said softly. "My darling, why does he not cry?"

"Elven babes often do not," replied Thranduil as he moved to stand by Bard. " _Mae carnen_ , Tauriel."

"My deepest thanks to you, my Lord," she said, "that you thought to come along when our men were sent only for a wheel."

The Elvenking inclined his head, and when he looked back at her he was smiling. "It is my pleasure—nay, my honor—to be present for the first birth of one of our kin in these woods for more than three centuries."

"Perhaps now that the Dark Lord's sickness is clearing, the Valar will seek to bless more than the forest with new life," Tauriel said.

"They already have—your son is proof of that," Thranduil said. "Though I shall be a very happy king indeed if soon more such news were to reach my ears from my subjects."

"Oh, come on now!" Tilda chimed in. "What is his name?"

Tauriel looked up at Bard with a grin, then back to the baby. "After I returned from the nether-realm, I did indeed regain many memories of my parents. One of those was the name of the village in Doriath where my father said he was born—he spoke of the place fondly, as I recall. Lucania it was named, and through my father our child has ties to that long-lost city. Therefore I have decided he shall be named for it."

She looked to Tilda then and held the baby out to her. A look of wonder and surprise crossed the girl's features before she took him into her hands, holding the babe to her chest with the utmost care.

"Your brother's name is Lucanío. It means 'man from Lucania'," Bard said then. "In the Elvish tradition, that is his _amilessë_ , his mother-name. His _adaressë_ , or father-name, is Pengorion."

Tauriel looked up in surprise. "I did not know you wished to gift him with a father-name as well."

He leaned down and lightly kissed her brow. "He is part Elf, my darling. He should be named in the tradition of his kin."

Her smile widened. "Thank you for that, though already his Elven mother had named him, and given him an Elvish name."

"Son of the Bowman," Thranduil mused as he glanced down at the baby over Tilda's shoulder. "How appropriate, for I think he takes well after his sire. Except for… well, the ears he gets from his _naneth_."

That he knew the Ñoldorin (another ancient language Maglor had taught her much of during his long visit) for "bowman" was a surprise to Tauriel, but she made no mention of it. Instead she smiled and sighed softly, feeling quite content that the long wait to meet her child was over at last.

Reaching up, she took Bard's hand and gave it a light squeeze as she looked up at him. "Happy birthday, _meleth nín_."

Bard started at the same time Tilda gasped. "With all the excitement of our son's arrival, I had quite forgotten I am thirty-seven springs today. That's two years in a row I've forgotten my own birthday."

"Happy birthday, Da!" his daughter cried softly. "Isn't Lucanío the most wonderful present?"

"Indeed, my dear daughter. I daresay he is."

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Sindarin:

 _amilessë_ – mother-name

 _adaressë_ – father-name

Pengorion – Son of the Bowman (combination of _pengor,_ Ñoldorin for "bowman", and - _ion_ , the Sindarin suffix meaning "son of")


	79. Chapter 79

**Lordienne, Laurel, and Eryn - thank you so much for those reviews. I'm quite chuffed you enjoyed my inclusion of the Elven naming tradition.**

 **Also, many thanks to blarneylvrose and CindraLu for favoriting/following this story!**

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 **Coronation day is here at last. Fitting, I suppose, that the last chapter is the longest...**

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 ** _Mid-summer's Day, 2944_**

"Lucanío, come back here you little scamp!"

A loud peal of childish laughter erupted from the direction of the wet room moments before a small, naked body crashed into the legs of his father. Bard was hard-pressed to contain his mirth as a pair of wet hands clung to his trousers.

"Save me, Dada!" the boy pleaded.

Bard crossed his arms as the child's mother stepped into the sitting room. His stoic expression slipped and he could not help but laugh at the harried expression she wore.

"Think this is funny, do you?" Tauriel asked. "Perhaps I ought to throw you into the tub with your son."

Lucanío looked over his shoulder at her. "Why I gotta take a bath? It's not bedtime."

Before either of his parents could reply, a soft knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Bard called out.

The door to their suite opened and Sigrid stepped in. Love and pride swelled in his chest to see his eldest full with child. Hers and Téomas' first year of marriage had been full of ups and downs, but the young couple had made it through, and come out the stronger.

Bard preferred to focus on how happy his daughter was to be starting her own family than the fact that he was soon to be a grandfather, when he'd just become a father again a little more than a year ago.

"What's this?" Sigrid said, directing her gaze to her brother. "Why are you not dressed?"

"Your _honeg_ is refusing his bath," Tauriel said, her tone exasperated. "He seems to believe that his _ada_ will save him from it."

The stern glare she shot him told Bard that he'd better not laugh again. Lucanío's usual bathtime antics never failed to drag her to her wits' end, and he knew she was already stressed enough over the event taking place in just a few hours.

Today was the coronation. Today they would be crowned King and Queen.

It had been a trying first two years for the people of Dale, with crop yields being low and game being scarce. But the spring of 2944 had seen a great turnaround. The trees in the orchards might not be ready to bear fruit—that would take another few years—but they were healthy and growing tall. The fields of corn, wheat, hay, and barley were more bountiful this year, as were the gardens of vegetables and vine fruits.

Deer, wild hogs, rabbits and other animals used for their meat and hides were more plentiful in the woods on both sides of the River Running, and the livestock had borne more young this spring than the two prior combined.

And people had come—from the south and the west, new arrivals came to the area every few weeks. The population in Dale alone had grown to near 600; Esgaroth was not far behind, and between them another small village had sprouted. A second new settlement had begun south of Esgaroth just over a month ago.

Although there was still much of the city undergoing repair, Dale was prospering as he had long hoped it would, and so he could no longer put off that which his kin had desired from the day he brought the dragon down.

His youngest child's precociousness delighted Bard and made him feel younger than his 38 years, but he knew now was not the time to be indulging the boy. He detached the toddler's arms from around his calves and picked him up. "Luc, you must do as your _nana_ tells you. It is bad manners not to listen to her."

"But it's not bedtime!" his son insisted.

"Nay, it is not," piped up Sigrid as Tauriel drew a breath. His daughter came closer to where he stood, adding, "But it _is_ a special day for our family, Lucanío. You want to look your very best when you are made a prince, do you not?"

Lucanío's eyes widened. Stories about princes going on daring adventures were currently his favorite bedtime tales—Sigrid had just used the perfect bait.

"I get to be a real live prince? Will I get a crown to wear?" he asked.

Tauriel finally smiled. "Indeed you will, _mellion_ —but only if you take a bath, so we can dress you in your very best clothes. I have no doubt you will then look as handsome as your _ada_."

"Handsomer, I don't doubt," Bard said as he tweaked his son's nose.

Lucanío giggled and squirmed to get down. When he was on his feet, he ran past Tauriel as fast as his chubby legs would take him back toward the wet room. "Come on, _Nana_! I want to be a handsome prince!"

The three adults laughed, and after thanking Sigrid, Tauriel obediently followed her son.

"Thank you, Sigrid," Bard said, adding his own gratitude. "Your little brother's been quite the handful this morning."

He then took a moment to study his daughter's appearance. She looked so very elegant in her finery—very much a princess, as she was soon to be. Sigrid's hair was braided and pinned in an intricate twist on the back of her head, and her gown was a lovely forest green with black trim and gold embroidery, much the same as his wedding attire had been.

Because of that ensemble, it seemed, black and green had somehow become the "official colors" of Dale's royal family. For the ceremony today, Sigrid and Tilda would once again be wearing matching dresses, as Bain and Lucanío would be wearing matching tunics and trousers. His own clothing would be mainly black (with green trim and gold embroidery) at the suggestion of Peder and Peri, the color representative of the black arrow which was now a part of Dale's sigil—an upright longbow and a slanted black arrow. Tauriel's coronation gown was a green so dark it almost appeared black (green representing her connection to the forest), and bore gold brocade flowers with gold trim and a gold belt. She'd claimed it was far more elaborate than her wedding gown and far more beautiful a dress than she deserved.

He had disagreed whole-heartedly, declaring it appropriate attire for one who would be a queen.

 _Royal family_ , Bard mused. _Never, I think, will I get used to that term_.

"I came to help Tauriel with her hair, but it seems I am early," Sigrid said, drawing him back from his thoughts.

"More like we are a bit behind, thanks to Luc," he replied with a chuckle. "To think I'd near forgotten what it was like to have a little one running around."

"I am glad he is here, for now I know what I will have to look forward to if my child is a boy," Sigrid replied with a grin. "Little Beryl is quite tame compared to Luc, and I think her calm manner has spoiled us."

Indeed, Halia's youngest adopted daughter, now three years old, was a sweet little girl who preferred to play quietly with her dolls than to run around and get into trouble as Lucanío often did.

Bard mirrored her expression. "That she has, but as difficult as he can be, I would not trade your brother for anything. He reminds me ever so much of Tilda when she was that age—wild and untamed. You and Bain were angels compared to the two of them."

Sigrid laughed, and then sighed. "Since she is still busy with Lucanío, tell Tauriel I'll be back. Just have her send Gunilla for me when she's ready to dress. And you, Da, need to get yourself into your very best as well if you want to be a handsome king."

He snorted lightly. "I did not even want to be a king, remember? Whether I am handsome or not is of little consequence compared to taking on a royal title."

"You could have refused, you know," his daughter pointed out.

"In principle, yes," Bard told her. "But my every protest seemed to fall on deaf ears—how was I to refuse when no one would listen?"

"And now here we are," Sigrid said. "Royalty."

"So it would seem."

* * *

"I am really nervous."

Tauriel looked to Téomas as Sigrid turned to reassure her husband. "You will do fine, my love," she said, patting him on the arm.

Stepping back to the young man, the elf added, "Let me tell you a secret, _ion_ : so am I."

"If anyone ought be nervous, it is I," piped up Bard as he tugged at his collar.

"Oh good grief, will you all just relax?" groaned Tilda with a roll of her eyes. "We are just getting some silly royal titles. It doesn't change who we are."

Tauriel shared a look with Bard before he glanced to his daughter with a grin. "Well said, dear one."

Although Tilda had a point, it did not help Tauriel to relax at all. The office in the Great Hall where they had gathered to prepare for the coronation seemed stifling and oppressive—thank goodness the ceremony was to be outside. She would be able to breathe. She was also thankful that though it was mid-summer, today's temperature was only mildly warm, so neither she nor the rest of the family would sweat too much in their heavy clothes.

Almost before any of them realized it, the moment was upon them. She walked out at Bard's side, her hand on his arm, followed by Bain. Behind him walked Sigrid and Téomas, and then Tilda and Lucanío. They stood in a line across the top of the stairs to the Hall and listened as Erron began his opening speech. The Lord of Dorwinion had been chosen to preside over the ceremony as a nod of recognition for his decision to declare his city a part of the Kingdom of Dale.

When he finished, his words full of praise for all that had been accomplished the last two and a half years under Bard's guiding hand, he called him forward. With a last look to her and a nervous swallow, Bard released her hand and Tauriel watched with pride and love swelling in her chest as he knelt before the other man. Erron turned and took from a beautifully carved box held by Percy the crown of the king. It was not the old, ornate headdress he had discovered years ago when first clearing out the manor—that now sat on a pillow under glass on the mantle of the grand fireplace inside the Great Hall, beneath the black arrow. Though he would have been honored to wear it, Bard had said, he felt that a new era, a new king, should have a new crown.

And so, with the assistance of Master Devorin the jeweler, he had designed a rather simple crown, made of two thin bands of silver with two thinner bands braided between them. Placed equidistant around the band of silver were six gold leaves—a nod to the forest from which his bride had come, Bard had explained—with thin golden tendrils artfully set between them. In the middle of each leaf was set a black stone, a golden braid surrounding it.

When the crown was on his head, Tauriel heard Bard swear he would uphold the law, support his people in times of plenty or poverty, and defend them with his very life in times of war before he stood. She drew a breath, knowing it was now her turn. Her husband turned to the side and held his hand out to her. She stepped forward, feeling her nerves dance, her heartbeat now almost frantic. Outwardly, as she took his hand and with her other gathered her skirts to kneel, she was calm. She had to be. Her crown—a match to Bard's but with emeralds instead of black diamonds; he had put six of his ancestor's jewels on hers—was set on her head, and then she, too, swore the oath.

Next was Bain, who was named Crown Prince and heir to the throne, who swore he would stand in his father's place whenever he was away, or if he should ever fall in battle. Sigrid and Téomas were then given circlets of their own and named as princess and prince, followed by Tilda and a beaming Lucanío, who clapped his hands excitedly when the small ring of gold was placed on his head.

Then the crowd of people roared and applauded, before they began chanting the words "Long live the King!"

* * *

The reception was in full swing. One and all seemed to be having a marvelous time—especially Lucanío, who could not resist pointing out his crown to everyone he spoke to. Tauriel could not help but laugh as he approached Elrond, who had pleasantly surprised her when he appeared at the side of his children a few days before (Bard had sent him a letter about the coronation without her knowing). The elf lord surprised her further when he reached down to pick up her son, and even more so when he kindly shooed Dagmar away when she tried to take him. She watched, delighted, as he conversed with the child he held as easily as any adult.

"You look beautiful, Tau—Your Majesty."

Startled, Tauriel turned to the speaker and smiled. "Thank you. But please, Hilda, you need not stand on ceremony. You may still call me by name as much as you like."

The woman before her grinned. "Perhaps once we're alone, having a private chat about whatever comes to mind, but I daresay in public folks will be all kinds of formal with you now."

She only just resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Getting used to 'my Lady' was hard enough," she mused. "'Your Majesty' will take more time, I suspect."

"I don't doubt that," Hilda replied, then bowed her head and retreated.

At the same moment, Tauriel sensed the approach of another behind her. She turned and bowed her head. " _Aran nín_."

Thranduil tilted her head up with a gentle hand. "Tauriel, no longer need you bow to me, for I am no longer your king."

She looked up at him. So much had changed in the last two and a half years, not the least of which was the _ellon_ before her. Where once he had been cold and distant even to those he favored—even, at times, to his own son—Thranduil was now much more warm and welcoming. He had truly made an effort to be more compassionate and considerate, both to his own people and to others, and though his relationship with the dwarves was still strained, they were at least getting along.

"In fact, that exquisite crown you wear makes us equals," Thranduil went on.

She reached up and touched her crown absent-mindedly. "I shall never feel as though I am your equal," Tauriel countered.

Her companion sighed. "The fault for that is entirely my own," he said. "I was cruel to you in many ways, the worst of them being that I made you feel as though you are not good enough."

"I'm not," she said. "I can't do this—I can't be a queen! What right have I to rule over anyone?"

The music being played changed, and Thranduil took her hand and pulled her out to the dance floor. Surprise bloomed in her mind again, for she had never seen him dance. At every festival or celebration, he was always off to the side, watching.

Placing one of her hands at his waist, Thranduil held the other up and started to lead her. Tauriel went with it, knowing that at some point he would speak whatever was clearly on his mind.

"By merit of your blood alone, Tauriel," he began after a time, "have you the right to rule."

She scoffed lightly as he twirled her in time with the music. "Nobility is not a right of birth—being born of noble blood does not make a noble man. Or woman, in my case."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "An interesting choice of words."

"My husband said them to me once, when first I came here," Tauriel replied. Then she grinned. "Ironically enough, we were talking about you."

"Where you now? Dare I ask what else was said?"

"Bard said that our choices define us, not to whom or what class we were born."

"Your husband is a very wise man," Thranduil said then. "He will most assuredly make a fine king for your people. And he's right, you know."

Tauriel smiled briefly. "Perhaps he is, but I was in your service for six hundred years, and never was I good enough for you. Never was I good enough for your son. Oh, I'm not good enough for an elf prince, but a king of Men will do because he's as low as me on the scale—"

"That is enough!" Thranduil said sharply, though not loud enough that those nearby would hear. "Why do you say such hurtful things about yourself?"

She felt tears well up, all the fear and doubt she had been feeling the last weeks leading up to this day boiling to the surface. "Six centuries of not being good enough does not just go away, my Lord, because a mortal has put a crown on my head."

Thranduil sighed deeply. "I am so sorry, _iell nín_. All this pain, all your insecurities—they are my fault. I have wounded you so deeply that even one so brave and confident as you does not think you are worthy of what you have earned, of what has been given to you."

Tauriel bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. "I am sorry as well," she said softly. "I do not mean to wound you by drudging up old hurts, for we have made our peace with one another."

He stopped moving and tilted her chin up again. "They why? Why the sudden—" His eyes widened as what was in her own dawned on him. "You're afraid."

"Of course I am! I do not know the first thing about being a queen!"

"And I do not know the first thing about being a king."

With a gasp, Tauriel turned to Bard, who had come up behind her. He stepped up to her and took her hands in his. "My darling, believe me when I say that you are not alone in your fears. Though we have long known it was coming it all feels so sudden. I cannot help sometimes but wonder if our people have made a mistake in choosing me for their king, when all I did to earn my crown was shoot an arrow at a dragon."

"Oh, Bard—you have done so much more than that!" Tauriel countered. "Do you not realize how amazing you are? Look at all you have done for your people without even being asked. You took charge straight away—not because you wanted to but because someone had to. And though reluctant to be their leader, you nonetheless took that role upon yourself and all your tireless effort has led to your people looking up to you. They respect you and adore you because all you have done was not just for yourself and your family, but for them also."

"And most of what I have accomplished these last years I have done with you by my side. Do you not see how amazing _you_ are?" Bard countered. "You have taught us to defend ourselves—our small army is skilled in the art of war because of the instruction you have given them. You brought with you from the west a healer who knew of the cure to an illness that would surely have destroyed us all. You have helped to bind us in friendship with not one but _three_ Elven realms."

Bard stepped closer then and took her into his arms. Tauriel sighed as he embraced her, laying her head to rest on his shoulder. "More than anything else, Tauriel, you have given to me your heart, and you have given to me another son whom I love more than life. You are intelligent and resourceful and you are my wife. If these were all that you had done, you would still be my queen."

"I just don't want to do anything that will lead the people to think they've made a mistake," she whispered. "I've done so many things wrong in my life, _meleth nín_ , I just want to get this right."

Bard chuckled softly. "That makes two of us."

They held each other for a moment longer, and when they parted, Thranduil laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "As it is the two of you to whom I make most of my confessions, allow me to impart another: I knew little about being a king when I took up the title. I had just lost my father in battle, his death leaving me an orphan. Along with him died thousands of our soldiers—I had to return to Greenwood in defeat and deepest grief, and for a time I knew not how I could cope with the loss of so many, let alone how I could possibly take my father's place as king.

"And then a miracle of the Valar was before me in the form of the most beautiful _elleth_ I had ever known, and she said to me words I abandoned upon her death and have only recently returned to living by—thanks in no small part to you, Tauriel."

Tauriel looked to Bard, then back at Thranduil. They had spoken of her but once before, so she had a fair idea as to whom he referred even without having heard her name—perhaps he could not yet bring himself to speak it again, but the fact that he had spoken _of_ his late wife was a monumental step for him.

"What words of wisdom did the lady impart?" Bard asked.

Thranduil smiled, his expression one of fond remembrance. "She said, 'Do the thing you fear, and the death of fear is certain'. So do as I did, _mellyn nín_ : Simply do the very best you can and in time your fears will subside."

Turning her head to share another glance with him, Tauriel raised a questioning eyebrow at Bard. "What do you think, Bard?"

He smiled. "I think it is very sound advice."

* * *

Lucanío had fallen asleep long before the celebration's end, but he woke as they were entering the manor and sleepily demanded a story before he would settle in his bed. Tauriel immediately took charge and Bard left her to it, heading into their bedchamber to change out of his fancy clothes.

Taking his crown carefully from his head, he set it on the dressing table. Eventually he would have to have a special chest built for all the headwear and jewelry he and Tauriel would acquire over the years. In fact, he mused as he began to undress, he might just commission such a chest tomorrow. A number of extraordinary pieces had been gifted to both he and Tauriel at the reception, ranging from the simple to the extravagant. It would be best to keep it all locked securely away until they actually had need to wear any of it.

After discarding his coronation wear and slipping into a comfortable, light cotton pair of sleep trousers, he drew on a robe and returned to Lucanío's room.

"…prince guided his friends home safe and sound."

Bard stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame. The scene before him was one he had witnessed an uncounted number of times, but never did it fail to melt his heart: a smiling Tauriel, sitting on the edge of their sleepy son's bed as she told him a bedtime story.

She made to rise but stopped as a tiny hand reached out to grab hers. " _Nana_ …sing me the angel song. Please?"

Tauriel turned back and brushed a lock of hair from his brow. "All right, _mellion_ , but then you must go to sleep."

"Oh…kay," Lucanío said on a yawn.

Bard smiled. Tauriel would deny it, but she had a lovely singing voice. He loved listening to her even though she only ever sang lullabies to their son.

" _Anen alcuin_ , _tenna i aur anen bain di alyë_. _Ir gerin alyë fîr na fuin_ , _Im ista man anen gartha agor_. _Im auciri i amar an lasta alyë siqu, an linnathon nín valon laer_."

Before she had even finished, Lucanío was fast asleep. Tauriel leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his brow before rising at last. Bard held out a hand to her and she took it, leaning into him as he led her to their rooms.

"I am so exhausted," she said as they stepped into the bedchamber, "that I could truly just fall asleep in this getup."

Bard chuckled. "You could, although I do not think it would be very comfortable—especially with that crown on your head."

"A good point." Tauriel stepped away from him and took her crown from her hair, setting it beside his on the dressing table. Wordlessly, he stepped up behind her and began to undo the laces of her gown.

"Someday," he whispered in her ear, "I should like to see you wearing nothing but that crown."

Her response was a chuckle and a playful swat on his arm. "Do not be wicked, my husband. At least not tonight."

Bard harrumphed softly. "Fine then. Spoil my fun."

"Perhaps someday—maybe even soon—you shall get your wish. But truly, Bard, I merely wish to retire. It has been a very long and trying day."

He nodded, then kissed the back of her neck as he exposed it at last. "I concede, for it has been a long day indeed. Much as I desire to lay with you, I think tonight I will content myself with holding you in my arms as our dreams take us."

Tauriel sighed. "That sounds perfect to me."

As soon as she was out of the dress and petticoats and her hair was unpinned, Bard fetched her a night dress and helped her pull it over her head. He then helped Tauriel into their bed before he discarded his robe and climbed in beside her. They wrapped their arms around each other and sighed in tandem, then he kissed the top of her head.

"Goodnight, my darling," he said.

"Goodnight, _meleth nín_ ," she replied.

Though he knew she would be awake in just a few hours, Bard sensed Tauriel falling asleep almost instantly. Though he was just as tired as she, he did not immediately follow her into slumber, the events of the day playing through his mind keeping him awake for some time.

Then, as sleep began to claim him at last, Bard's final conscious thought was, _Tomorrow begins a new era for Dale_. _Today I put on the crown, but tomorrow I am king_.

* * *

 **Sindarin:**

 _honeg_ – little brother

 _mellyn_ – friends

 _Anen alcuin_ – I was (anen) never (al- [lit. not]) alive (cuin)

 _tenna i aur anen bain di alyë_ – until (tenna) the (i) day (aur) I was (anen) blessed (bain) with (di) you (alyë; Quenya)

 _Ir gerin alyë fîr na fuin_ – When (Ir) I hold (gerin; Noldorin) you (alyë; Quenya) late (fîr; Gnomish) at (na) night (fuin)

 _Im ista man anen penia agor_ – I (Im) know (ista; Quenya) what (man) I was (anen) put here (gartha [ lit. put in position]) to do (agor)

 _Im auciri i amar an lasta_ – I (Im) turn off (auciri [lit. cut off]; Quenya) the (i) world (amar) and (an) listen to (lasta) alyë (you; Quenya) siqu (sigh; Quenya)

 _an linnathon nín valon laer_ – and (an) I will sing (linnathon) my (nin) angel (valon; Quenya) lullaby [song] (laer)

* * *

 **A/N:** The song Tauriel sings to Lucanío is the first verse of "Angel's Lullaby" by Richard Marx. I translated it as best I could, but not every word had an Elvish translation. Therefore I substituted similar-meaning words, and you'll also note that some words I had to take from other Elven dialects as there either was no Sindarin for it or the word suggested by my online translator did not fit.

Also, yes it is entirely plausible that Lucanío - who would be one year, two-and-a-half months of age at the coronation - is not only walking and running, but holding conversation as well as a child years older. Elves develop at a higher rate mentally than mortals do. And you might have noted that he called Bard "Dada" - I figure he's learned a good deal of Elvish and simply combined the Sindarin for Dad - _ada_ \- with what the mortal children call their fathers in Dale. So... Dada.


	80. Afterword

**"Here at last, on the shores of the sea, comes the end of our Fellowship. I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are an evil." ~ Gandalf, _The Return of the King_**

* * *

Well, here we are folks: three hundred thirty-eight pages, one hundred seventy-two thousand one hundred seventy-one words, and fifteen months later (for me, anyway; been just under a year for you all).

The end of the story.

I truly appreciate each and every one of you who has come along on this journey with me—a special shout-out goes to every person who took the time to leave me a few words in review. This was my first story in Middle-earth, and I really hope everyone who has read it has enjoyed my extension of the canon.

Or as some might say, my alternate universe. ;)

A few background notes for you: Because the years of birth for Bard and Bain were never given in the canon, and because Tauriel, Sigrid, and Tilda technically are not canon, I based all their ages on the actors who portrayed them and also gave them their birthdays. Made it much easier for me as a writer to have such a point of reference. Therefore in TA 2941, the year BotFA took place in Middle-earth, Bard was 35 - same age as Luke Evans was the year the movie was released (2014; his birthday is April 15th). Tauriel was 635 that year and her birthday is August 3rd (Evangeline Lilly's birthday, her age being 35 in 2014); this based, in part, on a line of dialogue spoken by Legolas: "For six hundred years my father has protected you. Favored you." Peggy Nesbitt, who portrayed Sigrid, is a year older than John Bell, who portrayed Bain, so she became the oldest (I at first thought Bain was the oldest, but when researching the actors' ages for reference, I found this would not be the case). This means Sigrid was 16, Bain 15, and Tilda 11 in 2941 - and which would mean Bard was a mere 19 years of age when his eldest was born. But then, I imagine many folk in such a world married young.

Also, Lucanío was named not for the birthplace of Tauriel's father - at least, not entirely. Though it is a genuine name that does mean "man from Lucania" - which was an ancient district in southern Italy, and made for a good in-story meaning - I wanted to name hers and Bard's first two children after the actors who portrayed them so wonderfully, so their son is called Lucanío as a nod to Luke Evans. I found the name in an internet search for names similar to Luke and figured it seemed Elvish enough. Though I'd not originally intended to give him a father-name, I got thinking at one point Tauriel might like the idea of his having one and that Bard could surprise her with it. In a Sindarin phrase I never got to use in this story is the word _pengor_ , which the website I found it on translated as "bowman/archer". When I looked up the word on another, highly trusted and accurate site for Elvish translation, _peng_ is in fact Ñoldorin for "bow" so I knew that the previous translation was correct. And since Bard's known as Bard the Bowman, Pengorion was thus the perfect father-name for his son.

The sister that Lucanío spoke of in the nether-realm will be introduced in another story sometime down the road...whenever I get to working on it.

For those of you who enjoy my work and would like to see more, worry not. I'd not have entitled it Forgotten _Tales_ of Middle-earth for nothing—believe me, there will be more to come! I cannot say when I will start on the next big story, _A Change of Fortunes_ , but hopefully that will be in the next few months. In the meantime, I've started putting up _Glimpses_ , a compilation of one-shots and deleted scenes, the latter being things I'd imagined as part of a larger story (there will be at least four from _The Journey of Hearts_ ) but which I decided not to include due to pacing. I'm also including three scenes from _Entwined_ , a story the late Daniella Blue was writing which sadly did not get finished before her passing. Because _Entwined_ was to take place in the Forgotten Tales universe and because these scenes foreshadow things that will later be revealed in my own stories, I daresay she wouldn't mind my sharing them with you all.

Before I say a fond (temporary) farewell, here's a list of songs which had some influence over the course of writing TJoH:

"Broken" – Seether w/ Amy Lee

"Wait for Me" – Theory of a Dead Man

"Somewhere Out There" – Our Lady Peace

"Chasing Cars" – Snow Patrol

"Leave Out All Rest" – Linkin Park

"Come Back to Me" – David Cook

"Listen to Your Heart" – DHT w/ Edme

"What Hurts the Most" – Rascal Flatts

"Here Without You" – 3 Doors Down

"Just Give Me a Reason" – Pink w/ Nate Reuss

"Not Broken" – Goo Goo Dolls

"The Reason" – Hoobastank

"Far Away" – Nickelback

I also, quite often while writing, listed to the LotR soundtracks, and a number of "epic" music compilations on YouTube. Adrian von Ziegler, Epic Music World, Pandora Journey and BrunuhVille are just a few I highly recommend you look up if you're looking for inspirational music for your own writing.

And last but not least, here are some of my absolute favorite Hobbit-era stories here on FFN:

 _Beneath a Cold_ _Spring_ by Daniella Blue

 _The Scribe and the Serving Girl_ by Daniella Blue

 _After the War_ by WantedWild

 _Babysitter Bilbo_ by Etaleah

 _Blinded_ by Kagetora no Tsume

 _Dare You to Move_ by Mont Girl of Lumatere

 _I Will Forsake the Stars for You_ by Nenithiel

 _A Gift for Kíli_ by Jessie152

 _The Path Not Taken_ by ravnbb2855

 _The World I Have Known_ ( _Is Lost in Shadow_ ) by Spamberguesa

 _24-Hour Coffee Shop_ by Mo Fraser

 _Wayfarers_ by summerandblue

Once again, thanks ever so much for joining me, Bard, and Tauriel on this adventure. I hope you will join me for the next one!

( _All Sindarin - and other Elvish dialects - in this story derived from Parf Edhellen, realelvish dot net, Ardalambion, and Taramiluiel's Tome of Middle-earth_.)


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